Such Great Heights
by loveonspeedial
Summary: It was a man’s world, but somehow, she knew she was destined to fit into it. Complete
1. Combat Baby

**A/N:** I have an addiction to receiving feedback, good and/or bad! Enjoy!  
Music by Metric. I own nothing but my own character(s).

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**I. Combat Baby**

_Get back in town  
__I wanna paint it black  
Wanna get around  
Easy living crowd, so flat  
_

It was three in the morning when Cora Larson climbed out of her window and down the fire escape for the last time, carrying her belongings in a sack like Santa Claus. She had left a note on the mantle addressed to her family that told them of her grand plans. No specific details were mentioned so they could not come after her and she purposely signed it with X's and O's. With a smile planted on her china doll-like face, she made her getaway…

"Cora," a voice called softly from behind the bedroom door. "It's time to get up, love."

"Thank you, Mrs. Joel. I'll be out in a second," she replied.

Cora sat up in the warm bed, her hair disheveled from an unusually horrible night's sleep. The eyeliner was smudged beneath her eyes and some of her lipstick had rubbed off on the pillow where her face had smashed into it. She found herself in the same dress she had on last night, which was ripped from climbing through the window. With a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her uniform was waiting for her in the closet. She quickly dressed and rushed down to the bathroom to wash her face.

The young woman she saw in the mirror was not the same one that she found staring at her in 1942, over two years back. Lately, she wondered where that woman had gone. Her eyes were the same bizarrely dark blue and her hair still fell in free, untamable curls around her. More freckles had appeared on her barely tanned skin, but besides that, nothing about her appearance had changed. She had cried more tears than she cared to and smoked more cigarettes than her rabbi would have preferred, and had consumed enough coffee to keep her awake for decades. The girl she used to see laughed more, teased more, kissed more, hugged more, and made love more than this new person did. She used to be uninhibited, uncontrollable, and slightly undisciplined.

"Who are you?" she whispered softly to the reflection.

Mrs. Joel, a middle-aged widow with two sons of her own, sat at the breakfast table reading the morning paper. She still wore her wedding ring and slept on her side of bed, even six years after her husband's death. She had what Cora considered a devotion that was oddly romantic. The older woman thought of Cora as a younger version of herself. She had no restrictions or limitations, but a part of her was constantly fighting for her life. She was ready for death and yet terrified of what would happen afterwards.

"Tea's in the kettle, love," she told the younger woman when she entered.

"Oh, that's okay, Mrs. Joel. I have to get going. Supposedly, there's tons of work ahead of me today. Thank you for everything, though," Cora said, grabbing a scone and heading out the door.

The chilly English air hit her hard. It was an instantly sobering affect that had her almost sprinting toward the mess hall for coffee. A crowd of familiar faces met her with smiles and laughs as they too downed their breakfasts. George Luz, Frank Perconte, Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere sat at the far end of a middle table. One of them called her over.

"How are my boys doing this morning?" she asked with a dull smile, kissing each of them on the cheek.

"Better now that you're here. I'll tell you, doc, I've got this pain in my back. Think it'll get me home?" Bill asked her, his Philadelphia accent heavy in his words.

"So soon? Stick it out a little while longer, wait until we get into combat, then try that line."

"And until then?"

"Forget it, Bill. Where can a girl get a decent cup of coffee around here?"

"Try London, Cora," Joe said, his voice huskier than usual.

"That's really helpful, you know. What would I do without you, huh?" she sighed, walking towards the percolators that contained her precious beverage.

The men looked after her as she left, partly perplexed by her attitude and partly admiring the way her hips swayed as she walked. "What's gotten in her?" was the question on all of their minds. Since North Carolina, Cora had either been angry or upset. Most of them figured that Herbert Sobel, Easy Company's hated CO, had something to do with it. It was rumored that the two of them were involved with each other, having what the nurses called a "scandalous affair." And it made perfect sense… anyone that knew Cora well enough knew she could be directly manipulative. If she were going to sleep with anyone in Easy, it would be the person she could get the most from. If Colonel Sink were the only person she had to answer to, she'd flirt with him too.

"What's wrong with you? Lately, you haven't been acting like the Cora I know. Where is she?" Luz asked.

The question hung in the air over their heads. The words were trapped in a bubble like something out of a comic book. Cora took a long sip of coffee, the heat burning her tongue. She shrugged and leaned in forward toward the table.

"I don't know. The old girl's on a bit of a vacation, but she'll be back," Cora answered truthfully. "Don't worry about me, okay? The last thing I need is the lot of you fretting over my behavior. I had enough of that from my mother. Anyway, what can you tell me about Tab and whatsherface," she said enthusiastically, dying to know the latest dirt.

"Not too sure really. He's got a couple of broads on the side that we know of, but this new one is a mystery. He's trying to keep it quiet," Frank reported.

"Trying to help her keep her reputation is more like it," Cora added, lighting up a cigarette that she pulled from George's pocket. "Do they honestly believe anything is going to stay a secret around here?"

"Not with you still a part of the company. Is that my cigarette?" George said, taken aback.

"Of course it is. I'll find out what's going on," she replied with a laugh.

"Don't bother. Word'll get out soon enough," Bill said, shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"Fine, have it your way. Half of us are going to be with Sobel today. That should be interesting," Cora said before biting into a piece of buttered bread.

"Christ! Are you serious?" Joe choked.

"That's what he told me last night. One half of the company with him and the other half with Winters. Let us all hope we're in the latter group."

"Tell me about it. If I have to do another drill with that guy, I'm either gonna kill him or myself," Bill growled.

Before another word could be spoken, Carwood Lipton stood in front of the mess hall to make an announcement. Easy Company was told to dress in their gear and prepare for today's activities. Cora wished the boys luck and headed toward Lieutenant Richard 'Dick' Winters. He stood taller than the others around him with red hair that resembled the Georgia clay that used to stain her boots.

"Please tell me we're stuck together today!" Cora said with a happy tone as she walked alongside of him.

"As long as you stop popping up like that," he said to her, almost amused.

"I promise to never do it again, now tell me I'm with you."

"You mean to tell me that you don't want to be led by your lover," Dick replied dryly, still finding her desperation funny.

"Oh, how I do hate you sometimes…" she retorted with a smirk.

"Well, then you'll be glad when we aren't together."

"Stop it! Don't joke about stuff like this, it isn't funny," Cora pouted, clearly annoyed by his teasing.

"It's a little funny," a voice called from behind.

A man with jet-black hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips strode up next to Cora, laughing. He put an arm around her shoulder as they walked, hugging her to him. She gladly leaned in as she glared up at him in frustration.

"Where did you come from, Lewis Nixon? I don't know how you escaped the confines of Hell, but you need to go back there," Cora said while hiding a smile of her own.

"Now, now, Cora. There's no need for hostilities," he said. "Wait a few more weeks!"

She stepped out of his embrace, laughing, and down the road to the Joel house. The road was quiet as usual, the fog hovering down around her. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep and there was nothing on the radio, she would walk up and down the street, humming songs or listening to the utter silence of the night. On several occasions, she swore that she could hear voices whispering around her, like ghosts trying to tell her things from beyond the grave. Cora ran through the ivy-covered lattice archway and up the brick walk to the blue door. She tiptoed quietly back to her room to grab her helmet, hoping to miss Mrs. Joel as she went. Luckily, the woman was out in the yard, tending to her flowers and shrubs. Cora snuck back out and headed toward the usual meeting place for Easy to receive their instructions. Sobel stood up, waiting for the others to arrive.

"Captain Larson, you're early for once," the CO pointed out as Cora pulled the red medic band up on her arm.

"That surprised, are you?" she replied sardonically.

"To be honest, yes. Especially after last night. I thought you'd still be sleeping."

"Don't pat yourself on the back too hard, Herb. I mean, you were good, but it wasn't your best work," she said, not caring who heard her.

Colonel Sink made it clear to her that sexual relationships with the men were forbidden. Yet, the moment she had met Captain Sobel, she disregarded that rule. Herbert tried hard to hide it, not wanting either of them to get into trouble, but Cora and Sink had an unspoken accord. While she was still the only Easy medic with a highly credible degree in medicine, he wasn't going to dismiss her. Despite her obvious disadvantage of being female, her qualifications kept her in power.

They were divided into their platoons and assigned their platoon leaders. Dick and Cora were, once again, together. Sobel fumed silently, jealous of Cora's obvious liking toward the second in command. For the most part, he knew he had very little to fear since Dick seemed to be invested in nothing more than friendship, but the lieutenant hid his feelings well. Truth was, Richard often unhinged whenever Cora got too close to him. Even when she was caked in mud, he could still faintly smell the scent of cinnamon in her hair. He found himself laughing when she teased him, but all he ever wanted to do was kiss her. He promised himself that if they both lived to the end, he finally would. But until they day came, if it ever did, he tried not to reveal his emotions.

Hours later, the troops sat in the cold rain, waiting for Sobel to show up. Dick finally decided to move out, taking the objective without the commanding officer in attendance. Cora's nostrils flared as walked alongside her best friend, trying to suppress the rage she felt.

"If you can change his ability to read a map and his patience, Cora, you deserve a statue and a room named after you in the White House," he told her, just as irritated.

Suddenly, as they came upon an elderly English gentleman, they heard Sobel's battle cry. The old man, with his hands raised slightly in the air, looked in the direction of the other platoon.

"Would that be the enemy?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact…" Dick began.

"…Yes," Cora finished.

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	2. An Affair to Remember

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews! They were much loved and swooned over.  
Music by Vic Damone. I do not own Band of Brothers.  
Enjoy!

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**II. An Affair to Remember**

_Our love affair is a wondrous thing  
That we'll rejoice in remembering  
Our love was born with our first embrace  
And a page was torn out of time and space_

Cora sat alone on a bench, writing a letter to her disappointed mother. Her uniform was similar to that of a woman serving in the WAC, only she held herself with less grace. As the ink stained her pale, calloused hands, a few other women joined her on the wooden seating. A redhead and two blondes chatted away like three hens before introducing themselves to the woman to their left.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Second officer Charlotte Taylor. This is Third officer Elizabeth Hinkle and Third officer Rebecca Crane," the redheaded woman said cheerfully. She couldn't have been much older than Cora, despite the fact that her heavy makeup made her look at least five years older.

Cora scanned their faces with an eyebrow raised. She put down her pen and extended her arm cordially. "Captain Cora Larson."

"Captain?" the blonde, green-eyed one named Elizabeth squeaked. "How can you be a captain?"

"There are no captains in the WAC," the other one said with a scoff.

Cora tried her best not to roll her eyes. God, someone save me. "I'm not enlisted with the WAC. I'm of E Company, 101st Airborne Division, 506 Parachute Infantry Regiment… the paratroopers."

"They allow women in the Airborne?" Charlotte asked, perplexed.

Suddenly, Cora remembered why she refused to join the Women's Army Corps, the Army Nurse Corps, the Public Health Service, the American Red Cross, or the United States Marine Corps Women's Reserve: because being surrounded by women 24/7 was nauseating. The middle child of six daughters, Cora had dealt with enough estrogen for one lifetime. It was bad enough that she had to fight with her own amount.

"Luckily, yes. Plus, there no other surgeons or qualified medics signing up and looking like a pin-up girl helped a little," Cora said with a laugh as she returned to her letter. "Of course, the Colonel suggested that I join the WAC, but I told him that if I wanted to be a bookkeeper or a dental technician, I would have stayed home in New York." _Please save me from these idiots._

Just as the three began to defend their positive positions in the war effort, a man strode up towards them, two bars pinned to his garrison cap. His voice was soft like velvet as he spoke Cora's name, her rank included. A crooked smile played across Cora's full, crimson lips. She raised her dark eyes up to find Sobel standing before her. He smiled down at her, his eyes matching hers in intensity. They watched each other silently before Cora tucked the pen and paper away in her utility bag, and pulled a cigarette out of its pack.

"Lovely meeting you, I'm sure," she said, lighting the cigarette and walking off with the other captain.

The two officers walked along for a little while before either of them spoke. They drifted closer together as Cora exhaled the smoke, to the point where their fingers touched and they joined hands.

"You're a life saver," she whispered.

They seemed to mold together perfectly, a match made in heaven… though that may have been a bit of a stretch. For whatever reason, though, Cora was almost sure that she loved him. The new her, sardonic and hopeless, loved him. The old version of her stopped trying to resurface and let the dark monster take over. Part of her enjoyed it, and another part felt lost, like it didn't belong. _Who are you? Where are you?_

Later, she walked alone to the empty mess hall. Her skin drank the sun's rays as they warmed her chilly bones. Birds sang somewhere above her, happily enjoying the brief bit of sun they too were receiving. She smiled a little as she walked. A group from Able Company passed her, something she had barely noticed until she picked up on what they had said: Winters. Court-martial. Battalion mess. Sobel.

Cora's heart thudded loudly in her chest. Richard… She rushed off to find him.

"Is it true?" she asked him, through his open window.

There was an anxiety in her voice and a redness to her cheeks that made Dick avoid questioning what she was doing there. _Only you would have a conversation through a window._ He nodded. Cora reached up and took his big, warm hands into her tiny, cold ones.

"I'll find a way to fix this. I won't let you go."

As she walked quickly away from the house, her voice echoed in his mind. Those five words instantly became a permanent part of his memories, playing on a loop inside of him. He could still feel the iciness of her fingertips…

Cora's eyes were wide, scanning every face in search of Sobel. She walked at a pace that nearly had her running to and fro over the base. She inhaled deeply, recognizing his aftershave drifting on the air. Then she saw him. Her fists tightened and it took everything she had not to run over to him and claw his eyes out.

"Captain Sobel!" she called, trying her best to remain calm. "May I have a word with you?"

"Can this wait, Cora? I—"

"No, this can't wait. I want you to call this whole court-martial business off," she snapped.

"_How will you remember me if I die?" Cora asked, her head rested on Herbert's bare chest._

_He smiled at the question as his fingers traced circles on her back. The aroma of cinnamon wafted up through his nostrils as he inhaled. There were so many answers to her question he was unsure of where to begin. _

"_Too many to name," he replied. "The way you always taste like coffee, the smell of your hair, your laugh, and how I can tell exactly what you're thinking just by looking in your eyes. How will you remember me?"_

_Cora was silent for a moment. "I'll remember how sweaty you always are…"_

"I don't want to talk about this here," Sobel replied, his voice filled with anxiety.

"I don't give a damn what you want. Stand before me at attention, Captain. I still have superiority over you." Her voice lowered some. "Now, you call this off. Winters is one of the best men in the entire 101st and you know it. If you care about me at all, you'll put an end to it."

"_I will never forget this moment," he whispered into her skin. _

"Permission to speak?"

"Granted," Cora said reluctantly.

"If you care about me, you'll let me deal with it. It was his choice to request a trial by court-martial."

"But you gave him the option, Herbert. Please… if you love me…"

"Well, then maybe I don't love you."

The words hit her hard, like being punched in the stomach. Her lip quivered as the tears formed. _Part of you will live in me…_ Her hand collided hard with his cheek, leaving a mark. He wanted to tell her he didn't mean it, but Cora walked away from him too quickly. He couldn't see her cry.

"_Who said that you were allowed to question your commanding officer?" Sobel snapped at her in front of the entire company._

_Cora's eyes were narrowed and a million witty comebacks rolled around in her head, but none of them found their way out. It was the first time he had ever reprimanded herin public, the first time in the year and a half that they had known each other. She continued to stare forward, not daring to utter a word. She had obeyed his commands… her heart sank._

That's where the old Cora had been left behind.

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	3. Faith

**A/N: **First, I want to apologize for not posting faster. College and all that. Secondly, thank you for all of the reviews: WETSU, JumpGirl42, Chelsss, urban-queen41, and Raging Raven. You made my day(s). I do not own Band of Brothers. Song belongs to Marillion. Enjoy chapter 3!

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**III. Faith**

_What I have here in my hand  
__Is like knowing but deeper  
__It's why I have faith_

Each and every tick of the second hand caused Cora some sort of pain; sharp at first, like a fresh paper cut, then it deadened to the slow lull that occurs beneath a bruise. Sobel's name often worsened the wound in the middle of her chest. Both inside and out, she was a wreck. Over and over again, she told herself she hated him, but it was never true. That was the trouble: as much as she wanted to hate the man that had ultimately left her broken, it was impossible for her too.

It took finally the scar on her leg to finally snap Cora out of it. She had gotten it while running in the rain up Currahee on her own. She had slipped downhill in the red mud, scraping her leg and tearing her uniform on a branch that was sticking out. The blood pouring out, she had continued to run, Richard's voice in her head the whole way. Don't stop, Cora. Proving him wrong is worth all of the pain in the world. As she coped in a reality that was now without Sobel, the words had never been truer. Cora dried her eyes with the back of her hand and carried on the best she could. The wound between her breasts began to scab. _"The old girl's on a bit of a vacation, but she'll be back."_ It spread through the company like a wildfire: Cora was back.

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"So you're the little woman I've been hearing so much about," Lieutenant Lynn "Buck" Compton said, offering his seat at the table to Cora.

"What have you all been saying about me? Nothing bad, I hope," Cora laughed as the men continued with their crap game.

"Is there anything bad to say about you?" Don Malarkey joked. "I mean, besides the thing-that-can't-be-mentioned-in-this-life-or-the-next."

"It was a fiasco, can we leave it at that please?" Cora sighed, taking a swig of beer from Joe Toye's glass.

"Gladly," they answered in unison.

Buck, pulling up another chair, didn't dare ask. For the most part, he knew what they were talking about and was warned early on by both Winters and Nixon never to speak of the situation or of him. Silently, he lit up a cigarette. _He broke her. That's all you need to know._ Cora reached out, took it from his mouth, and began to smoke it. Buck looked up at her as she stood, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Call it initiation," she said with a smile.

The others laughed and there was nothing else he could do, but join in. As she walked away, he found himself partly amazed by her. If she had told him to jump off of a cliff onto a bed of pure steel, he probably would have done it. "That's Cora for you," one of the men said. "She could get Satan into Heaven if she really wanted to."

The only thing Cora couldn't manipulate, though, was the war. A strategy was in place, maps were made, and it was clear that the Allied invasion of Europe was getting closer. H-Hour. D-Day. And the day came quickly. As a majority of the Airborne organized their equipment and ate ice cream, a letter came from Colonel Sink.

"Soldiers of the regiment: Tonight is the night of nights. Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years…"

Cora crumpled up the paper and threw it. Great adventure… that's a laugh. She continued to stare down at the leg bag she was required to wear. She cocked her head to one side like a confused dog, waiting for a bright idea to pop into her head.

"What are you looking at?" Dick asked, looking up at her from where he sat on the tarmac.

"This is ridiculous! Let's strap eighty pounds to our legs and hop down into France! Who's bright idea was that?" Cora said, kicking the bag occasionally as she spoke.

"You sure are cheery," was his only reply. She rolled her eyes and proceeded to shove all of her medical supplies elsewhere. She filled the useless luggage with her extra uniforms and things she felt were generally unimportant.

Cora joined her comrades in their large huddle and smudged the thick black substance over her face like the others. She must have looked like an Indian, the war paint streaked in lines across her cheeks. Before putting the helmet on her head, she tied her curly tresses back and pinned the stray hairs away from her face. As she twisted the last strand, a bobby pin wedged in between her lips, Lieutenant Meehan's voice rang out over the runway.

"Easy Company! Listen up, the Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. No jump tonight! The invasion has been postponed. We're on a 24-hour stand-down."

The next thing she knew, she was sitting next to George watching yet another Cary Grant film in a smoke-filled room, adding to the pollution by lighting up a cigarette as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dick escape out of the side door. Her first thought was to follow him, but her legs felt like lead as she sat in the chair.

"You okay?" Luz asked.

"I'll be better tomorrow."

"Won't we all."

Before the film ended, she finally stood and made her way outside. Dick was pacing back and forth in front of a few tents. She put out the cigarette with the toe of her boot and walked toward him laughing.

"How long have you been doing that?"

"What? Pacing? Since I walked out of there, I guess."

The two of them stared at their shoes, waiting for the other to say anything.

"Are you afraid?" Cora asked, drawing a circle with her foot in the dirt.

"Not really. Are you?"

"A little."

"Well, have faith and hang tough, all right?" he said, placing an unsteady hand on her shoulder.

Her red lips turned up into a smirk as she reached up and touched his hand. Every muscle tensed up beneath her fingertips, but a genuine smile crept across his face. _Tomorrow will bring something better. I promise you it will bring something better._


	4. I Will Follow You Into the Dark

**A/N**: I've had about five papers due since the last time I updated this. I blame my English Composition class for not getting this together faster. I don't particularly like this chapter though, so that probably explains something too. Thank you for all of the reviews. Keep 'em coming!  
I don't own Band of Brothers. Lyrics by Death Cab for Cutie.  
Enjoy!

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**IV.I Will Follow You Into the Dark**

_If there's no one beside you  
When your soul embarks  
Then'll I'll follow you into the dark_

_My dear parents,_

_You probably know by now that I am gone and you can rightly assume that I will not return. Eventually, I'll be shipped off somewhere else: Europe, Africa, the Pacific. God only knows._

_You both think I'm insane, and you're probably right, but who are you to judge my decisions? For twenty-two years, I have been defying the rules that I was clearly instructed to follow: having relations with men outside of the faith, before marriage, and even before the promise of love. But what does that make me other than a young women growing up in a world that is rapidly changing? And I ask, Mother, what makes my decision to fight for my nation any different than your decision to contribute to the fight for our rights as women? And Father, did you not always want a son to join the Armed Forces and make something out of the Larson name? _

_I will write whenever I get a chance._

_Yours truly, Captain Cora Leigh Larson_

The words often ran on a loop in her head and the way the pen felt in between her fingers was eternally etched into her memory. As she sat on the shaking plane, drumming her fingers on her thigh, memories came rushing back. Things like her mother's shrill voice shouting at her in Yiddish, the smell of her great-grandmother's rugalach drifting through the open window, and ushering in the Sabbath every Friday night. She could remember her eldest sister, Margaret, marrying the skinny son of the butcher who lived three blocks away; the birth of her youngest sister, Augustine; Joshua, the first boy she had ever kissed; Edwin, the boy she had lost her virginity to; her bat mitzvah; her arrival at Camp Toccoa; her last qualifying jump; her first kiss with Sobel… _I wonder where he is now._

It had been weeks since she had seen him, but hours since she had thought about him. Her jaw clenched tighter and tighter as his face became a crystal clear image in her mind. Silently, the reminiscences slunk forward from the recesses of her mind and she struggled to keep him away from her thoughts. Cora looked at Dick, who sat nearest to the exit of the plane. She smiled at him, focusing on the smile that he too gave.

"I'm tired of hearing about Sobel. There's nothing you can do about it, Cora. It's too late," he had told her. _I hate that you're always right. _

Bombs could be heard going off below the plane. Gunfire and warfare. This was what Easy had been training for, what the entire 101st had been training for. Cora's hands began to shake. The red light came on, the hue illuminating her boys' faces. What if, she thought, the plane didn't make it? What if they got shot down?_ What'll I do without them?_

"Stand up!" Dick called over the roar of the plane.

Cora stood, trembling. She felt a sudden urge to hold her best friend, grab his hand and force him to tell her everything was going to be fine. _If you say so, Richard._ She felt Eugene Roe behind her, checking the equipment.

"Three okay!" he shouted, patting her on the back.

"Two okay." Her voice was one she could barely recognize as her own.

As the plane began to violently shake, Cora gripped tighter to the hook. She swayed brutally back and forth, praying for the green light. She saw nothing, heard nothing, and focused on nothing other than Dick's voice in her head; conversations the two of them had through his window at night.

"_Why are you still with him if he drives you crazy?" he asked._

"_Because I'm a nut. How do you feel about that? The same person who'll be pulling bullets out of you is a psychopath," she laughed in a whisper, trying not to wake the other members of the house._

"_I feel safe."_

"_Why?" _

_The question was simple enough, but the answer was complex. _

_"Because… I believe in you."_

The words echoed in the air between them, bouncing from her body to his. The green light came on, and before she knew it, Cora was flying.

&&&&&

"Shit!" Cora landed hard on the French soil, the chute falling around her.

"I don't think that's the correct reply trooper. I say flash, you say thunder," a voice said behind. She knew right away who it was.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, take your flash and your thunder and go to hell!" she snapped, removing her right jump glove to reveal a broken nail. "That's what I get for painting my nails before we jumped."

Another soldier fell from the sky as the two Easy Company paratroopers gathered everything together. Cora's theory was right all along: the leg bag was a joke. Dick's gear was gone entirely, the boy, Hall, had lost his radio and most of his weaponry, and Cora's extra pair of clothes were lying somewhere in the French countryside… much like she was.

"Okay," Winters said, "follow me."

As the three turned, German gunfire was visible not far from them. The sparks from the bullets illuminated Cora's face in the darkness, which, for a fleeting moment, left Dick distracted._ I think I'm getting sick._ "To hell with that!"

Cora kept close to Dick as they ran in the opposite direction into the trees. Now, it was simply about finding their bearings; looking for farmhouses, buildings, bridges, roads, or anything else that would give some clue as to where they had ended up.

"I wonder if the rest of them are as lost as we are," Hall said despondently.

"We're not lost, Private."

"We're in Normandy," Cora said finally, finishing another one of his sentences.

It felt as if they had wandered around aimlessly for hours, at least that was Cora's opinion. She often stretched her arm outward to hold Dick's hand, much like she with Sobel whenever she felt too frightened, but refrained. If word had gotten back to battalion, they'd have her off the line for sure.

"So you're from Manhattan?" Cora asked Hall, of Able Company, the Brooklyn accent sparking on certain syllables.

"Yeah. West Side. How about you?"

"Brooklyn, Decatur Street."

The two New Yorkers nodded and continued to follow Winters to wherever he decided to lead them. As they approached a stream from a narrow footpath, rustling noises were heard on the other side of the bank and three other figures marched forward raucously. Cora crept closer to him and put her hand on his back to signal she was there.

"Lieutenant Winters? Is that you?" a familiar voice called out.

From the other side of the bank came Lipton, two other soldiers following close behind him. They stomped through the water and over to E company's XO. Lip embraced Cora the moment he reached her.

"You okay?" he asked, his arms still partially around her.

"Better now that I know you're fine."

The men that had been following Lipton watched perplexed by the exchange of words and gestures that occurred between the sergeant and the medic. In the 82nd Division, they had heard very little of the woman who had joined up. Their imaginations often ran wild, picturing a butch woman over six feet in height with arms the size of tree trunks; who could survive the harsh training that the paratroopers went through. Yet, there she was, standing at 5'7" with less muscle than a pre-pubescent boy. They thought she'd be merciless, but her tone seemed genuinely concerned. _Who are you?_

Dick used all of his brilliant tactics to figure out where they were and where they were to go. Cora knelt close to him and listened intently for anything that might have been moving in the woods around them. He rose up from beneath the raincoat that one of the 82nd boys had let him borrow, a combination of determination and desperation on his face.

"We're about 7 kilometers away from our objective and four hours away from when we need to have it secured. So, we got a lot of walking ahead of us," he said, handing the borrowed flashlight back to Lipton.

Cora nodded and stood. After all of those runs up Currahee, she was more than prepared for it. Dick shot her a look, signaling for her to keep close. His arm reached behind him for a minute, long enough for him to realize what he was doing, but so brief that Cora didn't see it. It wasn't just the two of them there anymore. It wasn't just the two and Hall anymore. Lipton probably would have understood and kept quiet, but Dick didn't know about the two from the other refused to put Cora at risk like that. She came up quickly beside him as they crept through the trees.

Voices came from the clearing where the railroad tracks were. Cora paused, and listened again. She fought internally, unsure if there was one that she recognized, but as if on cue, an accent from South Philly rang in her ears.

"Flash!" she whispered into the darkness.

"Thunder," the group of Easy men said, turning to find three of their own emerge.

Cora flung herself at Bill, hugging him close to her. Joe and 'Popeye' Wynn received hugs as well and numerous "Thank God"s. Richard quickly directed everyone as to where they were to be with Cora in the rear of the formation. Just as she went to question him, Hall stopped suddenly and he rushed forward to peer out onto the road. The Germans were coming.

"Wait for my command," Dick whispered as the boys lined up their shots and Cora leaned far back against the trunk of a tree.

A memory of going hunting with her English father in New Jersey suddenly surrounded her. There she was, a little girl, dressed in flannel and jeans. There was a rifle in her hands and a deer not far from where they were hidden. Her father knew she wouldn't shoot it, but try to patch up the wound with a strip of fabric from her shirt. Her simply willing to be out in the middle of nowhere with him gave him the minimum satisfaction he wanted all along, the kind he always received from having six daughters.

Even at the age of nine, though, Cora played the role of a son. As she grew, the character she was performing became more ambitious: the son got a degree, went into the medical field, joined up with the troops. The son was a fighter, a genius; but the daughter, the actor, only wanted to prove herself as versatile and commanding. If it is usually what most actors wish to achieve, then Cora was the ultimate, deserving of the gold medal in Olympic theater. _Papa, I can't imagine you being any prouder of me._

Rapid gunfire awoke Cora from her daydream. She looked to find Bill spraying bullets on the enemy, and Winters fuming. The horses whinnied as they fell to the ground and the Krauts pleaded in a language Cora understood only bits and pieces of. The shots suddenly silenced with Dick shouting at Guarnere in a tone that made the young medic tremble for a moment.

"When I say wait for my command, you wait for my command, Sergeant," he snapped before turning to Cora "Are you okay?"

She nodded, feeling the anger radiating off of him. They reorganized and headed off toward their objective once again, bickering amongst caught up to Dick, who now had a weapon in his hand. The two walked side-by-side (and nearly hand-in-hand) once again. Cora leaned closer toward him.

"'They that have power to hurt and will do none, that do not do the thing they most do show, who, moving others, are themselves as stone, unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow: they rightly do inherit heaven's graces,'" she whispered. "William Shakespeare. Sonnet 94."

A smile crept across his face for only a second, but that brief moment in time stood still for each of them…

&&&&&

_They that have power to hurt, and will do none,  
That do not do the thing they most do show,  
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,  
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;  
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,  
And husband nature's riches from expense;  
They are the lords and owners of their faces,_

_Others, but stewards of their excellence.  
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,  
Though to itself, it only live and die,  
But if that flower with base infection meet,  
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:  
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;  
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.  
_Sonnet 94


	5. Pink Bullets

A/N: Thank you Raging Raven for the review!  
I do not own Band of Brothers. Lyrics by The Shins.

* * *

**V. Pink Bullets  
**_Over the ramparts you tossed  
The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers  
Tied to a brick  
Sweet as a song  
The years have been short, but the days go slowly by  
Two loose kites falling from the sky  
Drawn to the ground and an end to flight_

"Where you from, son?" Malarkey said, tormenting the German prisoners of war as the stray paratroopers headed toward the camp.

Cora turned and looked at Malarkey as he struck up a conversation with one of the Krauts about their common place of birth. With a single glance, she warned him not to stay too long. He nodded, but did not listen. She continued down the muddy road, following the sound of male voices. Her tension eased as familiar accents and tones filled her ears.

"Hey, Easy Company!" Joseph Liebgott called out as his comrades entered the camp.

Just as quickly as Lipton had, he fell into Cora's embrace: one of sisterly tenderness. "My Chosen brother!" she laughed. The two Jews stood with their foreheads pressed against one another and their hands clasped together, praying softly. He brought his lips to her cheek and she departed. Her eyes scanned the crowd of men for other faces, but only found a tall, red head. As she got closer, she found the person she was originally trying to find. His blonde hair, although slightly stained with mud, shined brilliantly in the diminishing sunlight and served as a beacon as Cora fought her way forward. With a smile plastered on her face, she called his name.

Buck stood next to Dick with a grin just as wide as Cora's. He spun her around like a small child when she found her way into his arms, her face buried into his neck and her laughter stifled. "It's good to see you, girl," he said with a laugh. They stood in a tight grip like old friends, despite only knowing each other for less than a month. "You alright?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" she scoffed. "I'm fine. I'm a tough broad remember? You look a little banged up though. Anything serious?"

"No. I'm okay. Just a few scratches."

Cora nodded. "I'll take a look at 'em later."

Half a second later, her name rang out and she was off to work: healing, stitching, and fixing. A switch went off in her brain, changing her from amiable to intense. Her fingers were quick on large open wounds with a thin needle and strong thread, and gentle while pressing gauze to bleeding sores. She was suddenly in her true role: surgeon. In a matter of minutes, at least four men were on stretchers and on their way to an aid station or hospital where they would heal properly. Cora watched her last patient get carried off and she stood, defiant and satisfied, with her hands on her hips.

"Easy Company, on me!" Dick called.

Cora quickly stepped through the crowd toward the barn where they were meant to gather. With a handkerchief that Buck handed to her, she wiped the remaining blood from her hands. Suddenly surrounded by the rest of her company, she listened intently to Dick's instructions. As far as she was concerned, he _was_ their CO.

"The 88's we've been hearing have been spotted in a field, down the road a ways. Major Strayer wants us to take 'em out. There are two guns that we know of, firing on Utah Beach, and plan on a third and a fourth, here and here," he said, drawing a diagram using X's and lines. "The Germans are in the trenches, with access to the entire battery and with machine guns covering the rear. We'll establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast with two squads of three."

"How many Krauts they think we're facin'?" Guarnere asked.

Dick looked around at his troops. "No idea."

"No idea?" Cora replied in disbelief.

He looked at her with eyes that expressed the same emotion. "We'll take some TNT along with us, to spike the guns. Lipton, your responsibility. Liebgott, you'll take the first machine gun with Petty, A gunner. Plesha, Hendrix, you take the other. Who does that leave?"

The remaining few raised their hands. "Compton, Malarkey, Toye, Guarnere. Okay, we'll be making the main assault. Cora, you know what to do. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they all answered.

When they arrived at Brecourt Manor, the guns were pounding like the beat of a Native American drum in Cora's ears. The orders she was given were simple enough: wait for the call and stay out of harm's way. Wait for the call… the worst part for her was the waiting.

It didn't take long, though. The minute the men got to the trenches, one of them called for a medic. Cora rushed out from her hiding place and dashed down into the ditch in front of Popeye. She leaned down.

Before she could ask him anything, a grenade landed behind Joe Toye, who quickly rolled up.

"You're one lucky bastard, Joe," Bill yelled to him as Toye checked himself for any wounds.

Cora leaned down again. "Where're you hit, Pop?"

"I can't believe I fucked up!" he looked up at Cora, embarrassment written all over his face. "My ass, Captain. I don't think it's too bad."

"Think you can make it back yourself?" Dick asked him, reloading his weapon alongside him. He looked to Cora with his classic military pretense. "Go," he told her. She nodded and headed above ground, crawling on her belly toward the trees. Popeye crawled out as well after being lifted up by Compton and Winters. They both reached safety near a broken, rusted truck. Lipton waited there too.

Cora bent over the soldier, working as quickly as she could, while also healing a slightly bruised dignity. She removed the bullet and patted him on the back.

"You'll be alright, Popeye," Lipton assured him before rushing off to hand over the TNT to the others.

"Cor, you think this is a ticket home?" he asked.

"Not sure, Pop. Maybe."

"Shit, I just got here…"

Cora laughed and sewed up the small hole in his uniform. "Then hopefully it won't be. Besides, I kinda like having you around."

Cora waited there with him until the jeep came and drove him back to the battalion headquarters. She was left there, once again. She could hear Dick calling from the trenches, something about falling back to the original positions. Suddenly, he came barreling toward her, waving his arm.

"Come on, Cora. Back to battalion!"

She stood immediately and took off toward headquarters, the lieutenant coming right up alongside her. They walked back into the camp together, trying to catch their breath. Dick nodded and left to report to Strayer. As he turned, Cora continued to walk straight. She attempted to remove the dirt and grime from her face as she wandered forward, only looking up when she heard the rumble of the tanks. She nodded to the soldiers perched on top of the vehicles until one of them slowed to a stop.

Lewis Nixon, a devilish smile on his face, motioned for her to join him. He took her hand and pulled her up next to him. Cora laughed and took the cigarette from his lips, ignoring his annoyed expression. He removed another one from his pack and lit it with hers.

"Where's Dick?" he asked. "I thought the two of you were joined at the hip."

"We were, but he had to go tell Strayer about Brecourt. Lucky boy."

As the tank drove, the two found their friend standing on the side of the road. Cora tapped the metal next to the driver, signaling for him to stop again. Dick smiled up at Nixon and Cora, shaking his head a little. "Going our way?" Nixon asked.

Cora hastily maneuvered herself behind him, swinging her legs over the side toward the open countryside. "Nice ride you got here, Nix."

"Straight from Utah Beach. We should put 'em to work before they're missed."

They traveled until the evening began to set in and the sun dipped below the horizon. The troops stopped in a small town, for they were all given an hour to rest and find food. Cora found some refuge in the back of a truck with a group of Easy Company men who were waiting for Malarkey to finish cooking. It was stuffy and whatever the Irishman was concocting, the smell made Cora sick to her stomach.

"My God, Malarkey, my ma's cooking isn't even this disgusting!" she teased, remembering her mother's attempts to make anything other than her traditional New Yorker dishes.

"And what would you suggest, Cor? Gefilte fish or something?" Guarnere interjected.

Liebgott and Cora exchanged amused glances. "Hell no!" they cried in unison.

Malarkey began to serve his creation, which Cora discovered wasn't as revolting as it smelt. She scoffed it down in five large bites, a habit that she had from being one of six children. The men watched in awe as the slight woman quickly turned the fork into a shovel, stating the occasional, "Jesus Christ, Cora!"

Guarnere pulled the fabric flap back, trying to get some cleaner air to his lungs. Dick spotted him and faintly heard Cora's laughter coming from that same direction. "Evening," he greeted, peaking into the back of the truck. "Did something die in here?"

"Yeah, Malarkey's ass," one of them joked.

"Uh, any word on Lieutenant Meehan yet, sir?" Buck asked, stirring the food around.

"No, not yet," he replied.

The idea that Dick was their commanding officer, although it meant that something had happened to Meehan, made Cora's heart soar. She knew from the beginning that he had been best suited for the job above all others. She fought back a smile that attempted to play across her face, revealing her true thoughts.

"Joe, the lieutenant don't drink," were the words that snapped her out of yet another daydream.

All eyes fell upon Dick as he reached for the bottle Toye was offering him. "It's been a day of firsts." He took a long swig and instantly regretted in as he struggled to swallow the bitter liquid. "Don't you think, Guarnere?"

Bill took a drink from the bottle after Winters, issuing an unspoken end to their battle for power. Before exiting and leaving his troops behind, he turned. "Oh, Sergeant? I'm not a Quaker."

Cora was the first to erupt with laughter, followed quickly by the rest of the men. It was probably the first time that the wit she had come to adore surfaced. The topic swiftly traveled to Mennonites and Lancaster County, and Cora felt forced to leave. As she climbed from the vehicle, she saw Nix coming toward her.

"You just missed him," he told her, cutting off what was to be a pleasant hello.

She nodded and shrugged her shoulders before heading in the direction that he had pointed to. The twigs snapped beneath her boots as she ambled down the path, flashing lights in the distance leading the way. Dick was instantly silhouetted by the warfare, casting a dusky shadow on the moist ground. Cora came up alongside of him as he sank down into the seat of a jeep. Her body moved close to him and she rested her head on the top of his affectionately. He took her hand in his, their fingers knitting together. The fire danced in their blue eyes and somewhere deep inside of their bodies. While one prayed, the other dreamed. For both, it was the day of days, which they ended together.

* * *

**A/N:** So this is obviously turning into a WintersOC. But for all that are wondering what happened to Sobel, just wait! Be ready for an appearance pretty soon…


	6. Big Exit

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews: eXsTorDiNaRiLy InViSiBlE, Raging Raven, JumpGirl42, iHedge. I always appreciate it!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Band of Brothers. Titles to The Postal Service/Iron & Wine and PJ Harvey

* * *

**VI. Big Exit**

_I walk on concrete  
I walk on sand  
But I can't find  
A safe place to stand  
I'm scared, baby  
I wanna run  
This world's crazy  
Gimme the gun_

"You ain't half bad, doll," Bill laughed as he kissed Cora's knuckles.

The two paratroopers had danced together most of the night and didn't allow others to cut in much. A few times, George Luz took over and Babe Hefferon would steal Cora away from his friend, but other than that, she and Guarenere were inseparable. As a new song began, Cora urged him to keep dancing, but his boots were even more uncomfortable than her heels were at that point and he graciously declined (or as graciously as Wild Bill could). She stood on the dance floor without a partner for a moment until a light bulb went off above her head. Cora, with a smirk plastered on her face, dashed out of the canteen. She skidded to a halt near Richard's living quarters, and then silently tiptoed along the side of the cottage. It was too dark for her to see properly, so she tapped on the second window, hoping that she had picked the right one. After all the times she had been there, one would assume, though, that she'd have the path memorized. Cora tapped again and again, until a light illuminated the room on the other side of the glass. The curtains were pulled back and the window rose, and Cora almost fell backwards in embarrassment.

"May I help you?" the old English gentleman said, peering down at her through tortoise shell-framed glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm looking for Captain Winters…" her voice trailed off a little. She wondered what she must have looked like to this man with her short curls (that had been chopped off unevenly in the middle of the night by Cora herself) falling wildly around her and her large eyes drawn out with black eyeliner.

"Next window over, love," he told her politely, pointing her to the right.

"Thank you," Cora said with a nod before running down to Dick's window. She tapped on the glass several times before he opened it up to see her. He was prepared to give her the "you're-going-to-get-into-trouble-one-of-these-days" speech, but before he could, he peaked his head out of the window to see his host already awake. He waved to him apologetically and then looked back down at Cora.

"Come dance with me!" she blurted out, beating him to the punch.

Dick stared back down at her in disbelief. There were so many things he could have said, asked; but none of them came out.

_Do you even know what time it is? _

_Are you drunk? _

_I wish you could just come inside._

"Are you crazy?" were the words he chose.

"Maybe a little," she smirked. "You promised to dance with me. Remember? Come on, I'm asking for one dance, not a million. We may not get another chance."

"When did I promise that?" he scoffed.

"The night we got our jump wings. We were all celebrating and I asked you to dance. You promised to make it up to me. I thought you were a man of your word, Richard Winters."

With a sigh, Dick turned and grabbed his garrison cap from the desk where he was sitting. He looked at the door for a moment and contemplated what to do. Exiting from there would only further disturb the others in the house, something he hated. Another sigh escaped from him and he lifted the glass up higher. He stuck his leg out of the open window and slowly climbed out to join Cora on the side of the house. She smiled at him, took his hand, and pulled him out onto the street. Cora practically dragged him all the way back to the canteen and through the doors.

When the two of them entered, the men quieted down. It was shocking to see their CO in the pub that late at night, but with Cora by his side, it was understandable. By now, even the replacements knew what her hold over him was, what her hold over all of them was. It was a general understanding that Cora sometimes wasn't the prettiest, smartest, most charming, or most witty woman in the room; but she was, without a doubt, the only one oozing intensity and control. For most men, those two traits combined in a woman were their greatest down fall.

A slow song began to play, one Dick recognized as Glenn Miller's Moonlight Serenade. Before he knew it, he found himself dancing with Cora. Her left hand was on his shoulder, while her right was rested in his palm. He had placed his other sweaty hand on the small of her back, boldly taking the prime opportunity to pull her in a little closer. Soon enough, the two were dancing near enough where their chests touched and moved against each other as they swayed to the melody. The hum of clarinets filled their ears and, for the three and a half minutes that the song crooned on, they were the only two in the room.

Cora had never felt so comfortable in another's arms as she had in his. She wondered if it was right to be that close to him, that intimate. She fought to keep her eyes open and to not look as perfectly content as she truly felt. Dick's struggle was slightly worse. He held her tight, tighter than he ever had before, but kept her at a bit of a distance. The room was filled with men from their company, men who he would have to lead into battle sooner or later. None of them would blame him for falling for the surgeon, of course, but he had to hold a strong façade for his troops.

The song ended and they stood facing each other, their expressions somber and serious. Dick was the first to smile. "Can I go now?" he asked, although his arms were still around her.

"Yeah. Go get some sleep," she said stepping out of his embrace. "Doctor's orders."

He gave a small laugh before heading out the doors and into the night. Something ached within Cora as he walked away, an ache she hadn't felt since the incipient stage of her relationship with Sobel so long ago. _I wonder what you taste like._

Cora's eyes widened. Had that thought truly entered her mind? After all, it was Richard: her best friend, her comrade, the man who could make the world seem right again. As she walked nonchalantly back to the bar, her attention drifted. _I bet you taste like coffee… _

"What was that all about?" Buck questioned as he watched her saunter up and ordered another beer. She only offered a quizzical look as a response. "That thing with Dick just now? You say, 'Nothing,' and I swear, I'll kill ya."

"Then you better go find that gun, because it really was nothing. He promised me a dance, I needed a partner, and I figured that I'd torture him."

"When you could have tortured anyone else in the room?"

"What are you getting at? No, you know what, never mind. Look, Buck, don't get any crazy ideas about Dick and I."

"Besides, she's not over Sobel yet," Luz said, shoving his own two cents into the conversation.

"Shut up, George. You've been harassing me about that for two years. It's getting old." She paused to take a mouthful of ale. "And, you know, maybe I'm not over him. So what? It wasn't that long ago, so cut me some slack."

For the first time, she had been honest about Sobel. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her bloodstream or the adrenaline of so much dancing, but either way, she was fighting with fire. It had started in Carentan, where she sat at night with a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote a letter to her former lover. She poured everything she could into it without sounding desperate or weak, everything she could muster up without leaving watermarks on the paper.

_Herbert, _

_Writing to you has been quite a challenge, more so than D-Day was, I think. I know that you told Evans to write you occasionally about Easy and all of the happenings, but since he is no longer with us (nor anyone else from Lieutenant Meehan's plane), I figured that I would take over. You would have been proud of the men today after they successfully took Carentan and pushed the Germans back. It was a moment I'm sorry you missed. You can now lawfully gloat about your victory as an officer and as the one who trained us. _

_I recently thought about how things might have been if you hadn't left or if certain words hadn't been said. I'm unsure of how all of this all would have panned out. It is rumored that God has a plan for each of us, so perhaps we were meant for different paths, but something you said once stuck with me: "Part of you will live in me." I'm still hoping for the best where that is concerned and hating the fact that love never dies. _

_I hope this letter finds you well and prospering. _

_Cora Leigh_

He hadn't written back and she never expected him to. It was something she needed to get off her chest. Of course, there were a lot of things she disposed of that night, including her hair.

_Everything around her was silent as she slowly raised the scissor blades to her hair. With a deep breath, she began to chop off her locks. The new ends hit, jagged, just along her collarbone. At first, she regretted what she had done, glancing down at the mountain her shorn hair had made, but the loss made her feel like a warrior. Cora gathered what was left into her hands, twisted it on top of her head, and shoved her helmet on before walking away; leaving her nightmare lying on the ground behind her._

Everyone had gathered to listen to Carwood, but Cora stayed near the bar and finished what was left in her glass. She had paid no heed to Cobb and the replacements or Smokey and his over-the-top introductions; just leaned against the counter and tilted the cup back until the ale drained into her throat. With a heavy thud, she put it down on the wooden top and walked off, back into the night.

&

The air felt heavy as she listened to Dick spout on about Market Garden, which was meant to liberate Holland. They said that it would get them into Berlin by Christmas and home soon after that. Cora had mulled over the idea a million times and dreamt of the crisp New York air in January, the taste of hot coffee on those late winter mornings. A smile formed around the newly lit cigarette perched in her lips. She knew that a hospital waited for her back home: her only incentive. But before that time came, she would have to make it through the mission that Nixon had called, "bigger than D-Day." _As if anything could be…_

For Cora and the others, it was practically a reenactment of June 6th, except this time, they knew what to expect and truly prepare for. The paratroopers, again, stood on the tarmac, strapping their equipment to their bodies and organizing for combat. This time, though, their infamous leg bags were not required nor given to them. Jeeps and trucks rumbled past the soldiers, one of the occupants glanced out into the crowd. The original Easy company men grew silent as they spotted their first C.O. They knew that he was looking through all of them, seeing them but not truly comprehending their faces. _Maybe she wasn't there. Maybe she got hurt. Maybe she was killed. _

"Cora," Dick called, a finger tapping her on the shoulder, his voice tight and cold.

"What is—" Her face fell. Their eyes met instantly before he nervously jumped from the jeep. Cora's hands trembled as she watched him. _Why are you doing this to me?_ The hypothetical hole in her chest began to bleed wildly again, soaking her through and creating a puddle at her feet.

"The hell's he doin' here?" Bull snapped in a low, southern drawl.

"Better question," Popeye said, "Where the hell is she goin'?"

The men watched Cora approach him, fear sparking in her eyes. Sobel turned to face her with an expression she couldn't read and the two stood awkwardly together.

"I got your letter," he said, swallowing hard.

She nodded. There was a long pause.

Suddenly, he placed his hands on both sides of her face and crashed his lips upon hers with a force that was almost violent. Her eyes shot wide open at first, and then slowly closed as her tiny world began to spin. It was something that she had read about in books, seen in movies, but never experienced herself. The only thing remotely equal to his lips on hers at that moment was his body covering hers in the beginning; the heat radiating off of them while he tasted her. Cora reveled in the feeling for several long, glorious minutes.

The two were lost in a sea of bliss, of memories, of ecstasy. It was like old times, except now the secret was out, and what seemed like a million replacements looked on as their medic stood romantically in the arms of a stranger. Judgment came over Cora abruptly like a tidal wave and her arms flew up to push Sobel away. They parted, her hands still pressed against his chest. Sobel and Cora tried to catch their breath and regain their composure,

Cora nodded and turned, walking quickly away from him with the humiliation burning red hot on her cheeks. The others stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. The "thing-that-can't-be-mentioned-in-this-life-or-the-next" had occurred in front of the whole company, and a moment that would have normally been hidden from the rest of the world had been witnessed. Cora felt as if a boulder was resting upon her chest and daggers were being thrown into her skin. She returned to where she stood before next to Dick , his ice-blue eyes burning into her back.

"I don't want to hear it, okay?" she snapped, angry and disappointed, with her accent coming out heavy in certain syllables.

"Fine," he said, a bitterness to his tone.

Cora turned her head up quickly and glared at him, fighting back with all she had. "Are you honestly mad at me? You've got to be joking. What gives you the goddamned right?"

"Sorry. I just never thought you were that weak."

His words were caustic, burning her skin like a corrosive chemical. Her white hands tightened into tiny fists to keep her from ripping his eyes from his face or slapping him.

"Go to hell," Cora spat. She gathered her gear in her arms and walked off in a huff. She crashed down next to Doc Roe, who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was the only thing she had been looking for with Richard, the man who she had called her best friend. "I don't know what to do," she said quietly.

She glanced over at Dick once again. She could feel Sobel's mouth on hers, his tongue passing along the seam of her lips. She could taste the hint of brandy. Her body ached and her head was swimming. It had quite the turn of events.

* * *

Reviews make me swoon.


	7. Young Pilgrims

**_A/N:_** I am the world's worst updater. Seriosuly, I suck. Thank you to all of my reviewers though. When I finally checked my email and saw all of the lovely-ness, I swooned over and over again, and then proceeded to write. I'm home for the next couple of months, so everything should be quieter, giving me more time. Enjoy!

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own_ Band of Brothers_. Lyrics belong to _The Shins._

* * *

**VII. Young Pilgrims**

_But I learned fast how to keep my head up  
'Cause I know I've got this side of me  
that wants to grab the yoke from the pilot  
and fly the whole mess into the sea_

"May a shell fall into your self-righteous hands and blow you to pieces!" Cora snapped as she shoved her way through the sea of orange flags.

Her face was a brilliant shade of red, partly for the anger she felt and partly because the women of Holland assumed that only men were under those uniforms. Richard had instructed her not to remove her helmet, in fear of sniper fire, but enough was enough. Cora's hair fell loose about her face as she wiped the lipstick from her cheeks. She felt revolted, disgusted, and horrified, understanding the reasoning behind the head shavings better than the men. Cora scooped up a bottle of wine from a table as she passed it and sat down on the stairs of a nearby building, away from a majority of the noise and festivities.

The kiss, the reason that she was in the fight with Richard, still ran through her head, spinning madly like a seasick ballerina. She could still taste Sobel, feel him. Hell, she could practically reach out and touch him because the memory was so vivid. If only she could have kissed Herbert once more… maybe it would have proved that it was just a fluke; that not having been kissed like that for such an extended period of time had done something to her. Cora was lost in a trance. She hadn't noticed Private Hashey until he had finally spoke.

"Captain Larson?" he said, his voice deep and soothing. "Captain Winters, uh, wanted you to know that we're staying for the night."

Cora glanced up into the replacement's eyes, bewilderment dancing in the hazel orbs. "Alright. Thank you, Les," she answered softly.

Hashey stepped back into the crowd, accepting the receptive arms and waiting lips of several Dutch girls. Cora rolled her eyes. _Is that what I look like?_ She looked around at all of the smiles and realized that she was the only one without joy spilling from her pores. This, for some reason, worried her. There had to be a mistake. Her eyes darted back and forth once again. _Nope, they're all so goddamned happy._ Cora rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Had she missed the note about the Apocalypse coming? For as long as she could remember, (unless it was a family function) Cora was the animated one. She usually had to be told to quiet down. But, now, she sat alone on a cold stoop in Holland with morbid and hypocritical thoughts. _If you weren't wrapped up in fucking Sobel for two seconds, you'd realize that you're that touchy-feely too, you little trollop. Kissing is fun remember? It isn't about love. It never has been!_ Cora nodded her head as her conscious shouted at her. The nagging voice finally had a point. Had she finally turned into one of the drones that her mother wanted her to and that her sisters had become? Looking down upon her uniform, she laughed. _Get out there, Larson and quit your moping. Be a man about it._ Cora took a long swig from the wine bottle before standing and pushing forward through the crowd. A young man, perhaps only sixteen, gaped at her as she passed; shocked to see a woman in army fatigues. She turned to him suddenly, placed her hands on both sides of his face and pressed her lips chastely to his.

"Danke," she whispered before promenading over to George Luz, the bottle in hand.

&

When Cora woke up the next morning, she hardly remembered why her lips were so sore. George was curled up next to her with lipstick on his face and neck, which reminded her automatically. The pair had celebrated with a competition: who could kiss more people. At first, he had had her beat, but Cora suddenly turned on him and began to include the other paratroopers in their little game. Yet, the minute she had announced herself as winner, George pressed her against a haystack and left a trail of light kisses down her neck.

"We'll call it a draw," she had sighed.

Cora stood and stretched, hating the way she felt after a night on the ground. Her joints cracked and her spine realigned itself with a zipper-like creak. The aroma of coffee floated on the soft Dutch air and sent the addict in search for the source. Richard watched her from a distance as she flitted around. She was following her nose the way a dog would. It was both fascinating and disturbing to see. He looked down into his cup, watching as the steam rose from the black liquid. Cora stepped closer and closer in his direction before their eyes finally met. She walked confidently toward him with her head held high.

"Can I steal some?" she asked, her tone nonchalant.

"Sure," he answered with an indifference to his voice that aggravated her.

She took several sips of the coffee. It was so hot that it set fire to her throat and her insides, but the jolt that came from it sent electricity to her toes. Cora held the mug in her hands for a moment and sighed loudly.

"Have you ever been kissed, Dick? I mean kissed good, with something that knocks the shoes right off your feet? Have you ever had that?" she inquired between leisurely swallows.

He glared at her defensively, but without much emotion, not knowing exactly where she was headed with the argument. It had been entirely too random to be anything good. "Why?" he challenged.

"Because if you had, you would understand where I was coming from yesterday. You'd know what a good kissing does to the senses. You wouldn't be mad at me."

"Is that what this is about? I could care less about your reasoning or what your state is with Sobel."

"So you're being an ass for no real reason?" she snapped.

"Cora, you wanted me to get blown into a million pieces. You don't consider that a reason? How much wine did you drink exactly?"

Cora smiled sweetly, and then threw the cup like a fastball at his head. "My suggestion to go to hell still stands."

Richard jumped out of seat, missing the hot beverage by mere inches, and wiped the splatters off of his uniform. He looked as she stormed away from him once again. A small smile made the corners of his mouth twist upward into something that was more like a grimace. Cora thought she was so observant, but luckily for Dick, she was entirely oblivious to the fact that a blush had risen on his cheeks. _If you only knew…_

The tanks rolled in sooner than anticipated that morning and Easy was order to climb aboard. The company was to head into a part of town that was currently occupied by the Krauts. According to nearly all of the reports given to them, the German soldiers in Holland were made up of "kids and old men." Cora, knowing Easy Company's luck, was suspicious. To her, it was too good to be true.

The surgeon climbed up next to Liebgott, off of whom she had bummed a smoke and a light. There were plenty of jeeps still mildly available for her to ride in, but being with the other officers would have sent her into a frenzy. She was safer with the enlisted men, since she didn't wish harm upon any of them and not many had the nerve to question her choices.

"Thanks for this, little brother," Cora teased.

"Sounds funny coming from you, you know. Especially since I'm older than you," Joe shouted, in order to be heard over the rumbling of the tanks.

Cora stared out into the field as she inhaled the tobacco. On both sides of the gravel road, wildflowers bloomed purple and yellow among the pale grass. The scent wafted in the breeze, swaying in every light gust. A blue sky spread above them, with few clouds to block the sun's soft autumn rays. For a fleeting moment, Cora pictured herself spinning in circles in the middle of the field, dancing like a Romanian gypsy with her hair free and wild. The tanks then rolled to a stop and practically tossed her from the platform.

Lieutenant Bob Brewer wandered forward, ahead of the company, and peered through his binoculars into the town. Each of them watched in confusion, wondering what the hell he was doing.

Cora shook her head a little. "He's not all there, is he?"

A shot rang out then and Brewer fell to the ground, the blood spurting everywhere. Bull Randleman ran up towards the lieutenant as the others all darted for cover in the ditches that ran along both sides of the path. Cora waited until he called for a medic, knowing that it was only a matter of time. The bullets continued to fly near Bull. She was going to have her work cut out for her. The tanks began firing upon the others, setting one ablaze. The Americans returned fire upon the Kraut vehicles as well.

"Medic up front! Medic up front!" Bull shouted.

Roe stood, but Cora stopped him with her arm. "Let me do it. I think he's been hit in the neck." Eugene nodded and she was off. She sprinted up the hill and onto the road, kicking up the rocks as her boots dug into the dirt. Cora yanked the bag over her head and off of her shoulders, and tossed it to the ground. As she prepared to kneel next to Brewer, a pain suddenly ripped through her right thigh. Cora fell hard to the ground, gripping her leg. A bullet had tore through the side, missing the major artery by mere inches. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she lifted her hand to see it covered in her own blood. She fought the urge to pass out and gathered all of her strength.

"Medic!" she cried, her voice cutting through the gunfire.

Cora flipped to her stomach, breathing heavily as she went. The initial pain consumed her as she reached out for her medical bag. She grabbed the strap and dragged it along as she crawled on her elbows toward the side of the road. The soldiers had started to move toward the enemy, directing the fire elsewhere. The rocks were like razor blades through her uniform as she inched closer and closer to the grass. Cora reached the edge and tumbled down into the ditch. She opened her mouth to call for a medic, but another name escaped her lips.

"Richard!" she shrieked.

He picked up his pace when he heard her call, already running toward his fallen friend. She looked up at him with a dirty face and bloody hands. "I… I-I'm so sorry," she whimpered. Dick bent down next to her, throwing the medical bag over his shoulder.

"Can you put your arms around my neck, Cor?"

Cora nodded as he gently picked her up, one arm supporting her legs and the other on her back. He ran with her up to the trucks and placed her there softly. With trembling fingers, he opened the bag and handed her the things she asked for. Quickly, she patched herself up and looked to her savior with big, apologetic eyes.

"I'm so sorry for everything I said. I'd never really want you to get blown into pieces," Cora said, blubbering a little.

"And you are the strongest woman I know. Maybe even stronger than my mother, which is a feat I never thought I'd see accomplished. I'm sorry I said all those things about you… and him."

The two exchanged fragile smiles before he went off. Cora hoisted herself upon a bench and watched as he walked away. _Just tell him the truth, you idiot._

"I don't love him."

He turned to look at her with a quizzical expression. "What do you mean?"

"I don't love Sobel. I never did. I figured if I did, I would have found a way to forgive him for what he did to you. You mean more to me than he ever will."

Richard nodded and turned again. He held his façade and collected demeanor in tact as he walked away, making sure she didn't see the life that danced in his eyes.

The men were told to fall back the minute that the German's unveiled their tanks, blowing the troops and the town to smithereens. Four were dead and eleven had been injured, including Buck, who was placed at Cora's feet in the truck. "One bullet, four holes," Malarkey had told her. She reached down and patted Compton on the shoulder with a laugh.

The trucks retreated back to the farmhouses outside of town, where they had rested the night before. It had ultimately been one obstacle after another, especially for Winters, who had to deal with a missing soldier, a faulty operation, and a surgeon who refused to be taken to a field hospital.

"Do you have any idea how long they've been waiting for this? For an excuse to pull me off the line and make an example out of me?" Cora pleaded. "Don't make me go. I'll be fine in a few days, maybe a week. By then, I'll be running around and being useful, just don't make me go there. It's my ticket home and I don't particularly want it."

"Fine, but just stay in one place for a while and try not to move around too much," Dick told her, wagging a finger in her face as a warning.

In a matter of minutes, though, she had disobeyed his orders. Cora had waved Cobb, Webster, Hoobler, Garcia, and Hashey off as they went in search for their missing squad leader; visited with Guarnere and Johnny Martin to hear of what had happened to Brewer and Buck; had a bit of bread with Liebgott; and shared a pot of coffee with Don Malarkey and Skip Muck. She expected to be reprimanded by him, but found him alone near broken machinery. Cora limped over to him, the pain beginning to subside a little with each passing hour.

"They're bombing Eidenhoven," Richard said, staring off into the distance.

Cora watched his face for a moment, the hurt painted vibrantly across it. The fire from the bombs illuminated their faces as the two of them watched on, once again. She reached out for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. He could feel the callous on her thumb as it touched the back of his own. As they continued to look forward, Dick gave her hand a light squeeze and she returned the favor. The two of them stood next to each other, hand in hand, for what seemed like an eternity as the warfare raged on. There weren't going to be as many orange flags when the sun rose the next morning.

&

"Bull!" Cora beamed, going slowly toward him with her arms wide open. She turned him around in order to inspect the wound, which she stared at, petrified. "Who dug it out of you? Attila the Hun?"

"Well, if you're gettin' yourself hurt, I don't think I trust you with my problems," he teased, tapping her chin with his knuckles.

"Shut up, you. Come on; let's get you onto a truck so I can fix the mess that the barbarian left for me. Malarkey, you big, strong, strappin' man," Cora said with a devilish smirk, "would you mind lifting me up there, love?"

"Not at all, Corey. And, do me a favor, wait until we're around a bunch of the other guys and call me that. Drive 'em wild."

Cora let out a throaty laugh and agreed whole-heartedly to it. Bull sat on the floor of the truck in front of her, allowing her to put her graceful fingers to good use. As the vehicle pulled down the trail and the dust cleared, Richard looked to see Randleman as he winced, and Cora as she pulled gently on a needle and thread. The amusing look of determination covered her usual pixie-faced features. _I wonder what you taste like…_

**Reviews make me swoon!**


	8. Harvest Moon

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Band of Brothers_. Lyrics belong to _Neil Young_, I suppose.  
**A/N:** This is one of the longest chapters. Because (A) I didn't feel that this could be broken up and because (B) some stuff will be important later on. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews. All were thoroughly swooned over. Enjoy!

* * *

**VIII. Harvest Moon**

_But there's a full moon rising  
Let's go dancing in the light  
We know where the music's playing  
Let's go out and feel the night_

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _Cora groaned as she threw the blankets back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She lazily reached out to turn on the lamp, missing each time. Eventually, she ended up sprawled out on the wooden floor in the darkness. _Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Son of a bitch," Cora mumbled.

Light finally illuminated the room once she got onto her feet. The tapping persisted and, for a moment, Cora candidly considered the possibility that she was only dreaming. When she flung the window open, the idea seemed more and more realistic as she gazed down upon her redheaded Eskimo. But once her vision finally focused to reveal a forlorn expression on Captain Winters' face, she knew that it was all too real.

"Well, this is something I never expected. Actually, I'd expect a giant rabbit named Harvey to show up at my window before you. To what may I owe this visit, kind sir," she teased; imitating a Southern belle the best she could to lighten the mood.

"I need someone to talk to."

"Nix wouldn't wake up for you, I suppose?"

"I didn't ask him at all actually," Dick said as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Cora realized suddenly that whatever was troubling him was serious. She nodded her head understandingly. "This isn't window talk then. Go around to the door and I'll let you in."

She shut the window and headed for the bedroom door. Cora stopped in front of the mirror that was nailed to the wall to notice that she hadn't bothered to cover herself up before answering the tapping, and that she was clothed in nothing but a thin, army green guinea tee and boxers that she had been supplied to sleep in. Normally, she wouldn't have given it another thought, but Richard had always carried himself with a sense of propriety that she had lacked and the last thing that he needed was to feel as if he were practically seeing her naked. Cora grabbed a robe from the back of the door and wrapped the tie tight around her waist before she headed down the stairs to the small foyer. With nimble fingers and lightning speed, she unlocked the door and welcomed Dick into the small house.

"Do want any coffee or tea? Maybe I can make you scrambled eggs even. Looks like you've had a hell of a night, Dick," she said, flitting around the tiny kitchen.

"Just tea," he answered. She pulled out a chair for him at the table and ushered him to sit. He smiled inwardly, watching as she went into her medic-mode while heating the water and getting the cups out. Cora set the kettle on the stovetop, leaned against the counter, and tucked a dark, sleep-mussed spiral behind her ear.

"How's the leg?" he asked.

"It's fine. Sometimes it's a little sore. Probably wouldn't hurt at all if I stayed off of it like you and Eugene told me, but why start taking orders about my well-being now?" she joked.

The steam rose from the teapot, causing a loud shriek to cut through the night air. Cora quickly ceased it by pouring the scalding water into the hand-painted cups. With unbridled poise, she carried both beverages over to the table and set them down. Dick gave a quick nod of appreciation before lifting it to his lips and taking a small sip.

"Well, since you didn't go to Nix for this, it isn't about a girl or anything, right?" He emitted a gruff laugh, but remained mostly silent. His lip quivered a little and he bit down hard on his tongue to stop the tears. Cora reached across the table and gently touched the top of her friend's hand; a gesture that proved that there was a hidden wealth of empathy stored within her somewhere. "Richard, what's wrong?"

Winters' free hand flew up to cover his face as the tears began to fall. "Cora, I don't know what to do. Soldiers are supposed to be able to handle things. Men aren't meant to have nightmares… and hit the ground when they hear church bells…. I'm just starting to fall apart. That day at the crossroads keeps running through my head. I keep seeing that boy… I- I felt like a murderer, Cora… I'm falling apart."

Cora now knelt down in front of him, gripping both of his hands in her own. She stood up quickly and rushed to his side with a delicate tenderness that was completely foreign to her. Her arms went around him and she dotingly cradled his head in her bosom. Like a small child would, Richard clung to her and gripped the excess fabric of the robe. He buried his face deep in her chest, sobs racking his tall frame. She bent down a little in order to be eye-level with him and took his face in between her hands.

"Listen to me," she whispered as he wiped the tears from his cheeks, "You are a great soldier and a wonderful leader. You're probably the best that the Armed Forces has ever seen. And do you honestly think that you're supposed to get through all of this without a few glitches or a few tears? Men cry all of the time, real men. Odysseus cried, Rhett Butler cried. You're not alone in any of this." She paused. "They haunt me too."

As she spoke, tears began to burn at the corners of her eyes as well, but for Dick's sake, Cora held them back. She pressed her lips to his forehead and held him to her again, telling him to let it all out. Eventually, they moved into the living room, where they fell asleep and woke the next morning: bodies entwined, closer than they had ever been.

&

The wind whipped through Cora's hair as she drove into town. It had been bright for mid-October, but she had always been used to the dreariness that autumn brought back in New York. She pulled the vehicle into an alley, grabbed her helmet from the passenger seat, and leapt out the side.

They had called her down to headquarters for some unknown reason. Cora had heard that British soldiers were trapped somewhere and had to be saved, a dangerous operation to be sure. Naturally, Easy would be barreling into the heart of the peril. It seemed to be some sort of E Company tradition; like being shot in the ass or taking bets on the actions of their lone female counterpart.

"You're late," Lt. 'Moose' Heyliger pointed out as Cora stumbled in.

"Luckily, Sink's to preoccupied to notice." She handed her helmet off to Nixon before ripping a rubber band from her front pocket. Cora gathered her hair in her hands a pulled it to the nape of her neck, where she twisted it into a messy bun. A yawn escaped her as she stretched and took the helmet back. "I smell coffee," she muttered, pursing her lips.

"It's over here, Captain Larson. I know that you could care less about this operation," Colonel Sink said abruptly. "You proved that by showing up late. And don't you dare lie to me and say that it won't happen again. It'll only get my hopes up."

With a gentle smile, Cora poured herself a cup of coffee and slid up next to Sink. "Well, Sir, it's a matter of how you look at it. The way I see things, isn't it better that I act on my least damaging fault? Besides, we both know that my defects range down to the level of 'I'm surprised anyone is still alive after that screw-up.'"

Sink looked down at her with a hard glare. He moved on to address Nixon and Heyliger, knowing that she had a valid point. Her smile morphed into a smug grin as she sipped the coffee. Cora stepped back over toward the door and stood next to Dick. "How're you doing?" she asked.

"Fine. Thank you for that… for the, uh, other night. I, er, guess I… I needed that, I think. I…"

"I know." Cora glanced up at him with perceptive eyes. A blush rose on both of their faces as memories of the morning flooded back. Dick opened his mouth to speak again, but Colonel Sink spoke before he could.

"Larson, as an officer, I'll expect you to know this information backwards and forwards."

"Yes, sir," she answered with a nod. Cora stood next to Nix and listened intently to the words of Colonel Dobie. His accent reminded her of her father and she bit back a smile.

"140 men?" Moose asked. The disbelief and anguish was heavy in his tone.

"Canadian engineers have supplied six boats," Dobie answered.

Cora scoffed loudly. "Well, if the Canadians have a hand in it. I'm sorry, but I've dated several Canadians and none of them were very reliable."

"Perhaps it was just you attracting the wrong type of man, Captain Larson," the Colonel said with a sneer, one that Cora took offense at. "The rendezvous is isolated and landable. I swam it myself last night. At approximately 0030 hours, they will signal the 'V' for Victory with a hand-held red torch. That's a—"

"A hand-held red flashlight," Cora finished, a spark of anger in her voice.

Sink broke the tension with more direction. "Alright, we'll call this thing 'Operation Pegasus.' Bob, your 2nd Battalion is on the spot. Get it done."

"Is there anything else you need me for, Colonel Sink?" Cora piped in. "If you don't, I think I should go check on the wounded."

"Check with your CO and make sure he doesn't need you to do anything first. Oh, and Larson? Be late again and I'll send you back to New York."

Cora nodded and saluted before turning reluctantly to Moose, Easy Company's new commanding officer. He quickly dismissed her, still unsure of how to take her general attentiveness. With a roll of her eyes, she pulled him aside. "Moose, can I give you a helpful hint about being CO of Easy? Don't let me scare you. You're not passing the test very well. Just go about things like I was any other soldier. Though, it might help if you quit looking at my tits all the time." She smiled, patted him on the back, and walked away. "Good luck with those reports," she called out to Dick over her shoulder with a smirk.

"Yeah. I think I'll need it," he muttered before exiting right behind her.

&

Dick had never wanted to slam his head into a wall until that moment. He looked out to window to see a beautiful night, which he might have enjoyed if he weren't chained to the desk. But, instead, his hand had a cramp in it; the taste of bitter black coffee lingered in his mouth; his orderly handed him yet another paper to sign; and Nixon, along with Moose, was there to remind him just what he was missing. There was no denying that Dick would have given anything to be in charge of Easy again, back out on the line with the rest of the men. As far as he was concerned, a leader's place was not indoors. Yet, all he could do was give words of wisdom and hints, which Nixon quickly put an end to.

"Dick," he said with a steady tone, "Easy's in good hands."

Richard backed down into his role of desk jockey once again, with only one last bit to hand out. "Yeah, right, well, hang tough. And, uh, keep an eye on Cora. She's a good medic and she knows what to do, but she can be a little reckless at times. There's not much thought behind her actions. We can't afford to lose her, though, okay?"

Nixon shot Winters a glance. _Don't you mean __you__ can't afford to lose her?_ Dick gave a half-hearted smile and shook Moose's hand. He wished him luck with all the sincerity he could muster up. Without a brief acknowledgement to Nixon, Heyliger was off to be with the troops. Lewis turned to leave as well, but Dick's tension kept him there a moment longer.

"Uh, Nix? Are we sure on the intelligence of this?" he questioned.

"Well, I think it's pretty good," Lew responded with a snort.

"Is Easy walking into another company of Germans no one can see?"

Nix thought carefully about his words, trying to delicately convey his opinion. "Why don't we ask Moose when he gets back?"

Dick got the point. "Right, yeah," he answered in a whisper. "Oh, if, uh, they do run into any trouble, you'll let me know?"

"Yeah. You run into any bacon sandwich, do the same, alright?" Nixon said, mocking his friend a little.

"And if anything happens to—"

"If anything happens to our girl, you'll be the first one told."

The captain nodded, realizing that his true colors had shown. He looked down at his desk solemnly, embarrassment reddening his pale cheeks. "Forget it, Dick. She'd hurt you," Nix said with a smirk before he descended down the stairs.

Later that night, Winters could hear the celebration from his window and a smile lit up his face. He turned, annoyed, back to his desk to finish up another report. A knock came at his door. Dick called out for whomever it was to enter, but the doorknob did not turn. He stood from his chair and stepped quickly down the stairs to the entryway. When he swung the door open, no one appeared, just an empty bottle of beer with a note tied around the neck with a red ribbon.

"I'm alive, so stop worrying!" was scribbled on the piece of paper in Cora's delicate cursive and, for the first time in a while, Richard laughed.

&

The minute Moose was shot, chaos ensued. Cora, while getting some much-needed rest, was awaken by Harry Welsh in the middle of the night. She waved him off and rolled over on her side, only to be fully annoyed when Winters turned her light on.

"Oh, what the hell is wrong with you?" she groaned.

"Come on, Cora. Get up. We need your help," Welsh said in a hurried voice. He yanked at the blankets that she had held tight to her, but pulled his hand back seconds later when she craned her neck to bite him.

"Cora, don't bite Harry!" Dick reprimanded.

It took at least fifteen minutes to coax her out of bed, a cup of coffee waiting on the other side of the door whenever she finally dressed. She mumbled curses as she walked and hopped into a jeep that Richard offered to drive. The aid station loomed ominously in front of them, with its wooden doors swinging back and forth. Cora hated going into it. It wasn't the death that bothered her, really, but the life. There were so many men laying on cots and stretchers without limbs, without fingers, and even some without other appendages; that were going to live to see the States again. One would certainly imagine that they would find some tiny fraction of happiness in that fact, but their faces only expressed a desolation that broke Cora's heart. Of course, the sounds that met her at the door often reminded her from several scenes out of Gone With the Wind and the smell made the back alleys of Brooklyn seem like perfume shops. Reluctantly, Cora took a deep breath and entered.

Another medic stood close to the door, near the bed of a former patient, writing down the information on the young man's dog tags. The despair was written all over his face and there were smears of blood on his hands. He had clearly lost the soldier himself.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Lieutenant Heyliger," she said calmly.

"That way," the doctor answered shortly, pointing down a long corridor in the back.

Cora nodded and proceeded to weave her way through the sea of cots that were strewn across the room. The goal was to keep her head up and not look down at the wounded or dead men, the ones that had yet to be announced; but as a doctor herself, she couldn't let it pass. With a sigh, she tore the dog tags off several bodies, closed their eyes with gentle fingers, and covered the icy cadavers with the olive army blankets. "Nurse," she called. The other woman walked over with a slow pace. "These beds can be cleared. I put their tags on top."

"And who gave you permission to do that?" she asked with a heavy Dutch accent.

"The same person who told me, 'Welcome to the Airborne, Captain.'" Cora turned sharply and continued toward the corridor, not bothering to stop any longer. She had freed enough beds to last through the night… perhaps.

Down the hall, doors on either side were wide open. She could hear the shrieks of men who called out to their mothers and to God. Cora looked left and right, but there still weren't any signs of Moose or Eugene. Finally, she turned the corner to see a defeated Roe sitting on a small wooden bench. She approached him with a smile.

"So what is all this I hear about you losing it on Richard and Harry?" she inquired, plopping down next to him. "I mean, you of all people? I know that everyone has their moments, but I'll tell ya, it was a little shocking. Especially since you're the one who's always reminding me how important it is to stay calm under pressure."

"I know, but they're officers, Cora. Officers! They're supposed to know better…" he said through gritted teeth.

"They're supposed to, but sometimes people just don't think. They were more concerned about stopping their friend's pain. And, yeah, it was a dumb way to go about it, but it was the only thing they could consider of doing. Now, I wish it didn't sound like I'm defending 'em, but I am. He's going to make it, right?"

Eugene nodded, staring down at his bloodstained hands.

"Then that's all that matters. You didn't lose him, Eugene. Focus on the good, okay? Now, I'm going to go get some rest and I think you should too." She yawned, stood, and slung one arm around Roe's shoulder. "Come on. Let's leave all of this to Spina."

The two medics escaped out of the aid station and waved down a jeep that was headed for town. Sleep called both of them back to their beds until morning, when a new day awoke them with new problems to deal with.

&

_December 10, 1944  
__Mourmelon-le-Grand, France_

"That's it! I've had it! I'm gonna kill 'im!" Cora shouted as she burst into the mess hall. Her Brooklyn accent was prominent on her words as she spoke and threw herself down next to Toye, Luz, Perconte, Malarkey, and Babe. Cora's arms were folded across her chest defiantly and her cheeks were flushed a bright red. The breath, visible in the chill of the wintertime, came out in short angry puffs from flared nostrils.

"Something tells me this conversation calls for a nice dose of caffeine. Here, Cor, have a cigarette," Luz volunteered. He stood and sped away in hopes that she would call down by the time he returned.

"What the hell has gotten you so upset?" Toye asked while chewing on scrambled eggs.

"Lieutenant Norman Dike. I swear to God, if he calls me 'Miss Larson' one more time I'm gonna to grab a M-1 and shoot his balls off. I can't take it anymore! I'm his superior officer for fuck's sake." Cora lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. "This is getting really ugly, too. I called him 'Foxhole Norman' in front of Sink."

"He's just some stupid bastard, Cora. You can't let those kinds of guys get to you like this," Malarkey said, rubbing her arm to soothe her.

"No matter how funny it is," Luz added before placing the mug in front of the fuming woman. He received nothing but hard glares from the other men, which ultimately caused him to shrink back a little.

"Honestly, though, who did he blow to get here? He had to fuck someone up the ass, 'cause it's obvious that he didn't have any sincere recommendation," she snapped angrily.

"Yeah, well, ain't ya off to Paris tonight?" Babe asked at just the right time.

Cora nodded and let her head slip into her hands. "Thank God for that. If I spent one more night here, I think we'd have another new CO."

"Well…" George began in a sing-song voice.

"Forget it!" the rest of them shouted in unison.

Yet, Cora was not the only officer that had been sent to Paris. Winters fond himself shipped off with a 48-hour pass to the City of Light as well. Of course, since Dick had been forced behind the desk and into hiding, Larson and Winters had seen less and less of each other. Their only actual correspondence came in form of small notes with red ribbons. Ever since the 17th of October, it had become a bit of an ongoing joke that both ends carried on. Due to this, neither of them knew where the other was.

Richard had learned very quickly, though, that the city was not for him. The crowded sidewalks and the dim lights of the train only brought back horrible memories for him. Perhaps the only image that brought a smile to his face was the sight of a young couple on the underground. The black-haired girl's face was pressed into her lover's neck, a sensuous smile stretching across her dark features. The recollection of Cora's soft smile ruptured in his mind and almost sent him reeling, but the expression on the German boy's face washed the figure of her away and he was left to stare off into space. The train stopped and a French boy spurred Dick from his trance. He exited the station, slightly embarrassed. _They haunt me too_, she had said to him. _They haunt me too._

"Richard!" a voice called out. _It can't be…_ but it was. Cora, in her formal uniform, walked quickly toward him. Her hair fell perfectly beneath the garrison cap and her eyes shined a midnight blue in the light of the street lamps and the soft glow of the moon. "What are you doing in Paris? What happened to all of that paper work you couldn't get rid of?"

"I'm not actually sure," he said, still surprised to see her there.

"They probably found some other slob to dump it all on," she said with a laugh.

Cora's joy was contagious at that moment and there was a daring aura of adventure about her. Suddenly, Dick couldn't help but smile and laugh right along with her. They walked on the bank of the Seine and kept the talk light and airy. Notre Dame watched the two as they passed couple after couple, not bothering to notice that they looked like one themselves. As they neared Richard's hotel, Cora turned to look around him. "Do you know what this means?" Dick shook his head. "Now I'll finally be able to say to someone, 'We'll always have Paris.' That's been a dream of mine since 1943… since I saw that silly movie."

Cora stepped down into the empty street. "What do you think you'll do when the war is over?" she asked, standing idly in the middle of the road and staring up at the stars.

"I don't know," he answered from the sidewalk, cautious and vigilant as always.

She circled around quickly with bright features. "I think that we should come back here, to this very spot, just you and me. Then we should dance in the street."

"Dance in the street? You'll get hit by a car," he scoffed.

"What car? We'll come here at the same time when there's no one around." Cora grabbed him by the hand and pulled him off of the sidewalk. With bursts of laughter, the two danced and promenaded in the road. Dick stretched him arm out and then gentle spun her back to him, which caused her to crash into his chest. She braced herself with her free hand and Dick placed his own at the small of her back to keep her from tumbling backwards. Their laughter died down as they looked back into each other's eyes, electricity flying between them. Their faces were close, lips only inches apart.

_Take a chance. Be a man._

_This can't be happening._

_You've got her right where you've always wanted her._

_I've never felt so safe before. _

_Is this real? Am I dreaming?_

_I wish this didn't feel so right._

_Please don't hurt me._

"Cora…" he whispered. Richard leaned in and Cora tilted her head back dutifully as her fingers tightened on his jacket. _I've always wondered what you taste like._ A loud clang echoed against the buildings and garbage from a trash bin spilled out onto the sidewalk. A skinny cat ran with lightning speed down away from the alley where it had knocked the bin over. Cora and Richard stood at least two feet apart, staring at the ground like guilty teenagers with their shoulders shrugged up submissively. Cora bit her lower lip and Dick blushed profusely. Whatever moment they had had was lost.

"I have to go. I'm supposed to be meeting the bellboy in the hotel lobby in ten minutes since I have to back on base tonight. Get to go deal with Dike while you're away," Cora said quickly. She tried to break the tension the best she could.

"Right, yeah. Well, I guess I'll see you soon." Nervous laughter escaped him.

Cora smiled, and with a small wave of her hand, she was off into the night. Her heels clicked against the stone and Dick stood still, listening as her footfalls became quieter and quieter. _I guess I'll never know._


	9. One Line

**A/N: **This, yet again, took a lot longer than expected. This is a bit of a filler chapter than anything else, which explains why I'm not entirely satisfied with it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.  
I do not own Band of Brothers. Lyrics by PJ Harvey

* * *

**IX. One Line**

_I'm watching from the wall  
As in the streets we fight  
This world all gone to war  
All I need is you tonight_

Cora hurried off into the Parisian darkness toward her hotel. She pulled her jacket tighter around her as she walked to try and keep some of the heat in, especially since her body was suddenly giving off an abundance of it. Her cheeks burned, tingeing them the same shade as a ripe tomato. Something had happened with Richard, something she couldn't explain. It was something that she had never felt before. The butterflies in her stomach, the thoughts that raced through her head, the way that she willingly let him _almost_ kiss her… if being with Sobel had been harmful to her career in the armed forces, starting something so strong with Captain Winters would have been fatal.

The bellhop stood, in uniform, in the lobby of the hotel with her bag in hand. Cora could tell by his impatient expression that he had been waiting longer than expected. Her French was too rusty to offer him a decent apology, so she made a repentant face and shrugged her shoulders. With a roll of his eyes, the boy started toward the door. A taxi waited outside for her and she gladly headed off to the train station. All the while, Cora stared out the foggy window and remembered distantly all of the cab rides she had taken in New York. She remembered always having a boy's arm draped around her shoulder as they were driven into Manhattan. Even then, in the moments when she felt completely indestructible, Cora would gaze out the window and imagine that she was anywhere else in the world. She supposed that she always felt that way, unless she was working or spending time with her men… or she was near Dick.

Her head reeled for a moment and she inhaled sharply. _Are you a fucking moron, Larson? _The station came into view and Cora paid the driver as he handed her the bag. "Merci," she said in a whisper. She was too frazzled to speak at her normal decibel level. Within minutes, she was staring out of a new pane of glass and thinking. The snowy countryside rushed past her and she inched closer to the base every second, a thought that was generally comforting to her. In Cora's mind, it meant getting out of her dress uniform and into her paratrooper uniform. At that point in the night, she missed her boots more than a rum and coke.

She stepped down onto the platform and hurried along, her eyes looking forward. Cora walked through the warm station, past hugging French couples and other soldiers that clogged the path. She scanned the crowd to see if she saw anyone from the 101st there to retrieve her.

For the first time since the war began, she smiled at the sight of Lt. Ronald Speirs. His dark hair gleamed in the lamplight and his usual phlegmatic façade was illuminated as well. Cora automatically twisted into her customary mocking fashion, replacing all of her contemplative emotions back into the recesses of her mind to deal with at a later time.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here… Mr. Sunshine. How've you been, Ron?"

"Just fine, Captain," he said, snapping a little at her.

"I'm glad. So, who did you piss off to get sent here? I mean it, Ron, some one must not like you if they ordered you to come and pick me up. Besides, isn't it movie night?"

Speirs' jaw clenched. "I didn't piss anyone off, Captain. I'm just doing as I was told." With a violent swing, he tossed her sack into the back of the jeep. A worried expression came over Cora's face as the object landed with a loud thud. Her eyes grew wide and she gingerly climbed into the passenger seat of the vehicle. Speirs threw it into drive and the two quickly sped off toward Mourmelon-le-Grand.

The cold air stung her skin as they whipped through the night. A heavy scent of pine lingered in the air, like the 26th of December when all of the Christian families brought their Christmas trees down to the curb. Cora stared down at the road to her right to find a blur of black and white beneath her. Silence and wind filled her ears and created a tight knot in her stomach. Speirs stared forward, maneuvering through the darkness with an unbelievable accuracy. He slowed a little as they rounded a bend. Out of the blue, Cora spoke.

"Why do you hate me, Lieutenant?"

There was a long pause and Ron pulled the car over to the side of the road. He put it into park and turned sharply to look at her. "I don't hate you."

"Oh, really? Then explain yourself."

"I have men to lead, Captain. I—"

"Stop calling me that. It's getting old."

Ron paused and tightened his hand on the steering wheel. "Look, the men know you mean business. You made it this far without giving up. They respect you for it. You've never complained about being tired or dirty or being surrounded by a bunch of crazy sons-of-bitches. Not when it really mattered. But it's different for a man. If a man shows one sign of weakness, he can be quickly taken advantage of… it's the way I was raised. You were raised the same way, weren't you? You must know where I'm coming from."

Cora snorted and held back a laugh. "Actually, I was raised to be prim and proper. All my sisters are that way. Delicate and sweet, like a lady should be. I guess I learned one day that was never going to have my mother's approval, which was all I really wanted. After that, I did what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. I'm just a tomboy, Ron."

Speirs laughed and put the jeep into drive. The tension lifted between them and there was a new, unspoken understanding.

&

"I've seen this a dozen times," Luz said, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Well, I haven't, so shut up!" Joe Toye growled.

Cora laughed and propped her feet on the back of Joe's chair, hitting him in the head with the toe of her boot. He turned around with a hard stare to be met with her playful grin as she took a drag of her cigarette. The smoke lingered in her for a moment before she exhaled, the anxiety of earlier escaping as well. Cora rested her head on George's shoulder and reveled in the warmth of her pants and her coat. Laughter bubbled forth as Luz imitated the woman on the screen. She had seen the film with him each time and the bit he did always amused her.

"Have you ever noticed that you can never see John Wayne's teeth? That just doesn't seem right to me," Cora said.

In front of her, Lipton mumbled and tilted his head back with a heavy sigh. "Cora, you know I mean no disrespect and that it's out-of-line for me to say this, but shut up."

His aggravation only made Cora more amused. "I wish they wouldn't show these types of movies. You know, all the ones that show people in the armed forces. Why can't they show John Wayne the way he's meant to be: shooting the bad guys and riding a horse?"

Lipton and Toye both turned around to shush her rambling. Their faces both flushed red in anger and their knuckles turned white as they clenched into fists. Cora rolled her eyes and blew smoke in their faces. With a heavy sigh, she retreated back into her own thoughts, not about the film or the actors, but about Dick.

The way he had whispered her name sent chills rocketing down her spine. Under all of her clothing, goosebumps had risen when he placed his hand on the small of her back. Something between them had changed in that moment, for he had been forced to catch her many times before. But those times she had been caked in mud or in the middle of a field, not in Paris. She silently damned whoever thought of sending her off there, to the city of light and romance. As far as she was concerned, though, the night couldn't have gotten worse.

"Lights!" a voice called from the back of the room.

_I'd give anything to stop being so wrong all the time. _

Grumbling and shouts rolled across the room, cries of annoyance as The Duke's face quickly faded away. "Elements of the 1st and the 6th SS Panzer Division have broken through in the Ardennes Forest. Now, they've overrun the 28th Infantry and elements of the 4th. All officers report to their respective HQs. All passes are cancelled. Enlisted men report to the barracks and your platoon leaders."

Behind her, Cora heard Malarkey moan in frustration. In front, Toye slid further down in his chair. Cora pursed her lips and patted Lipton on the back before he stood. She waited for the other's to leave, enjoying the brief moment of quiet that their exiting had left her with. She inhaled deeply and got up, turning to find Dick walking out. _That doesn't seem possible… _Buck Compton had halted in the middle of the aisle, his gaze fixed on his faded boots. Cora placed her hand on his shoulder tenderly.

"How you doing, Buck?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

He offered her a weak smile, one that didn't reach his cerulean eyes. "I'm doing fine, Cora."

The corner of her mouth twisted up to form a smirk and she looped her arm with his. Cora leaned her head against him, close enough so only he could hear her.

"Liar."

&

Men rushed back and forth, trucks rumbled down roads, and the troops were gathered. The officers scrambled to find ammunition, food, and clothing for their men without much luck. The leaders of Easy Company huddled together around a fire. Cora, the last to arrive to the impromptu gathering, squeezed in between Lt. Peacock and Lt. Compton; still unsure of exactly she would react if she were to stand too close to Dick.

As usual, Lt. Dike was ignorant of the whole situation regarding his own men. To her, it seemed pathetic when the Company's surgeon knew more than the CO. Cora knew that there was a lack of ammo and winter clothing. She also knew that there was very little plasma left, since she had donated some of it to the aid station back in Holland that needed it more than she did at the time. Her scissors were starting to get dull and her patience was wearing thin, but there was nothing that could be done.

As Dike rambled on and on, Cora's blood began to boil and she inched toward her breaking point. Nostrils flared and eyes rolled as she tapped her feet against the snow-covered ground. "Then report back to me, understood?" he said, acting like taking charge of a situation was second nature to him.

Cora stood by, waiting like a mongoose about to attack an agitated cobra. Her eyes gleamed with hatred for the man across from her and brief images of all the ways she could kill him flashed before her. Dike turned to her, defiant and haughty. "What about the medical supplies? Are they as low as everything else?"

"Yes, but I've informed Roe and Spina and they're gathering everything they can right now. If we're really desperate or without an aid station, we'll resort to using the morphine from the soldiers' kits."

"So, you—you have it all under control, then?" Winters asked, stumbling over the words.

Cora nodded and glanced at him from under a fan of black lashes. She could see him blushing slightly in the firelight, and it brought a small beam to her face.

"When were to going to let me in on this little secret, Miss Larson?" Dike snapped with an annoyed tone.

_The final straw. _"When you stop addressing me as a civilian, Lieutenant. The entire point of having ranks is to have some sort of order and you're royally screwing that up. I'm not some stupid field nurse that you can talk down to. Got it? And, for fuck's sake, stop looking so shocked. It's annoying."

Dike backed away from her a little and nodded curtly. "Yes, Captain Larson," he replied. The words seemed almost impossible for him to get out. Once he was out of earshot, Dick let out a small snort.

"Impressive."

"Yeah. That's just because I got my point across without ripping his eyes out of his head."

For a long moment, the two stared down at the flames. The heat rose to their faces and to their outstretched hands. The sounds melted around them into a sea of static. Cora finally spoke up.

"So, why'd you leave Paris early?" she asked, truly curious.

Dick internally bickered with himself over his answer. The truth was that it just didn't feel right, being there without her; that all he could think about was her, even as he attempted to relax in a warm bath. There was no way, though, that he could explain to her that his imagination ran wild with thoughts of her soft lips on his bare skin without her having an aneurysm. "Civilization isn't really my idea of a good time, I guess," he lied, although it was not a complete fabrication.

Cora laughed. "I'd love you bring you to New York someday. Take you around Manhattan for a while."

Dick stared back down into the fire before turning his head. "I'd like that."

Cora's head snapped up quickly. There was something lingering in the depths of his eyes that made her heart race. She hadn't even noticed that she had moved toward him – or that he had moved toward her – until he was towering over her, his red hair gleaming. Cora's hands shook and she reached out to take Dick's in her own.

"Capt'n Larson? You ridin' with us?" a voice called from behind her, either Bill or Babe's.

Cora wrenched her hands back and stuffed them into her pockets. She answered with an abrupt "yes," her eyes never leaving those of the man standing before her. A heavy sigh escaped her before she turned toward the truck, filled with Easy Company. A phony smile spread across her features as she walked, a fake spring in her light step, over to the men. _I wonder if Darla ever felt like this around Alfalfa._

The cold ripped through the canvas flaps of the truck, the wind howling. Their headlights illuminated the dust that the tires stirred up and the soldiers in the vehicle in front. Buck squinted into the light, looking around at the darkened scenery. He casually tapped Cora on the helmet and she gave him a weak grin in return. She was squished in between Liebgott and Malarkey with her knees pressed close to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. All of the thoughts rushing through her head made her feel like throwing up and flying at the same time. _What if it's just Sobel flashbacks? What if this is just your imagination? What if you're wrong?_ The bumps and rocking came to a standstill and the barrier opened down.

As Cora hopped down from the back of the vehicle, her knee popped noisily. It wasn't uncommon for her and it wasn't something she typically talked about with the men, just in case. She still wasn't quite sure if the stretched ligaments in her kneecaps would get her off the line. A pain shot through it, but it was something that she had learned to ignore. Unlike Emily, one of her older sisters, Cora's kneecap had never completely come out of place, but she was afraid that it was only a matter of time.

Troops from another division came marching by, the defeat heavy in their expressions and their postures. The men from Easy Company immediately asked about ammo and received what they could from the beaten soldiers. Cora, taking notice, went to the medics and the surgeons; it seemed that plasma was a scare item for all. But she took what she could and hurriedly stuffed everything in her bag, barely aware of the jeep full of ammunition that had driven by. In hopes that he had brought some medical supplis with him, Cora rushed over, only to be met with a strangely familiar face.

"Cora?" he asked.

His dark eyes lit up like the Fourth of July and he seemed to glow from beneath his helmet. Cora stood like a deer in headlights, searching for a name to go with the face. _What is it? What is it?_ She thought she remembered him from her high school days, which seemed as if they had happened millenniums earlier. _What is your damn name? _Her head started swimming. Cora couldn't really even remember where exactly within those four years he had been. English, Geometry, Algebra, Writing, History… where? Or perhaps it had been in medical school? No, it was after that. After she had signed up with the troops. No one could know that was heading off to Georgia, in case they tried to stop her. _What is… ah ha!_

"George!"

"Yes! It's me, Cora. My God, I thought you were dying?" he asked, confused but excited nonetheless.

Cora fidgeted nervously. "I was, but I, uh… I got better." Dick threw her an amused glance.

"Maybe, if we both survive this, we can meet up again sometime."

"Absolutely, Glenn," she answered quickly.

"George. You mean, George…"

She nodded with certainly and with slight embarrassment. See him again? She had barely wanted to see him the first time. "Yeah, sure."

With a quizzical expression, the lieutenant drove off. Cora and Dick waved the dust away from their faces. He looked down at her, disbelief written all over him. Her eyebrows knitted together in frustration and she let out a lengthy sigh.

"You told the man you were dying? That's low, even for you."

"Not the first time I've lied, won't be the last. Ya know, I also lied about those Canadians, " she retorted.

"About dating them?"

Cora scoffed. "No, about them being unreliable. Best guys I ever knew, came from wonderful families. And, boy, could they –"

"Cora, I'd prefer not to hear the rest of that sentence if it's okay with you," Dick said, cutting off what was likely to be another detail into her sexcapades that he didn't need to know about.

"Noted."

With brief nods, the two headed off into the Ardennes forest; into the cold and what was likely to mean death for many. As they walked together, though, each felt genuinely safe. Whatever had happened (or not happened) between them earlier that night had been put to the side; Bastogne was more important.


	10. Reflecting Light

**A/N: **It's been a while. How 'bout a present for the new year?  
Do not own Band of Brothers, etc. Song/lyrics belong to Sam Phillips.

* * *

**X. Reflecting Light**

_Now that I've worn out  
__I've worn out the world  
__I'm on my knees in fascination  
__Looking through the night  
__And the moon's never seen me before  
__But I'm reflecting light_

Cold. The only thing that Cora could concentrate on was the cold. Not even when she fell through thin ice as a kid could she recall being this damn frozen. It was the last night of Hanukah, 1944. It was the Festival of Lights… of miracles, but warmth and hope still seemed to be distance memories.

"Cora, can you pass me my trench knife?" Dick said through chattering teeth.

She looked at him with a quizzical expression. "How can you be shaving at a time like this? The facial hair police aren't going to arrest you, you know."

Dick scoffed. "This coming from the woman who shaved her legs while snow fell on her head."

Cora's eyebrows knitted in defiance. The tip of her nose was tinged a bright shade of pink, detracting from her ivory face, and her wild curls had grown so much that the tresses now fell slightly past her shoulders; the dark contrasting with the pure white of the snow. She rubbed her hands together and blinked rapidly. "That's a different story! My legs were starting to look like Nixon's. It was disgusting."

Eugene Roe approached from behind them, gripping one hand in the other. There was a sadness in his eyes that Cora picked up on instantly. She internally wondered how many bodies he had found. He sat down next to her, still holding on tight to his fingers. She took his hand into hers and gently squeezed his index finger. Blood, bright red, pooled in the middle of it. Cora pulled a thin strip of olive green fabric from her bag and wrapped it around Eugene's wound, then tied the ends into a bow. They both smirked at the bandage. Something about it reminded them of home.

The sound of a twig snapping caused all three to twist their heads around immediately. A pang of fear raced through Cora's blood. Dick grabbed his gun and crouched down low, stepping closer and closer to the noise with Roe and Cora following close behind. He aimed into the dense, white fog, and called out to whoever it was. His words were meant to be some form of German, Cora thought, but he sounded more like a drunkard, slurring his speech.

A young Kraut soldier stepped forward through the mist with his hands above his head and a terrified look on his pale face. The breath came in spurts from blue lips and the pair of deep-set eyes darted back and forth between Dick and Cora. Other soldiers circled around the German boy with their rifles, poised and ready to fire, as Dick searched through his wallet and his pockets.

From the wallet, he pulled a small photograph of a middle-aged couple that must have been the mother and father. Cora's eyes fell upon the man in the picture. There was a sudden pang in her heart as she thought of her own father. She figured that he was bored without her there. He didn't have to mediate fights between his wife and his wild child, didn't have to worry about where she was whenever nine o'clock rolled around, didn't have to deal with the accusations that the worst daughter was his favorite… there was only the worry that his Artemis, goddess of the hunt, was never coming home.

"Take him back to regiment," Dick said, thrusting a bandage at Cora.

Breaking from her thoughts, she took it and clutched it in her fist. She turned to Eugene with a smile. "Here, you might need this more than I do."

A jeep pulled up, carrying General McAuliffe and Colonel Sink. McAuliffe's feet were still in the air when he asked for an evaluation. Cora stepped nearer to Dick and shoved her icy hands into warm pockets. As she looked to him, she noticed that he still had white soap all over his face. Part of her bit back a smile.

"We're under sporadic artillery fire, General. We're taking a lot of hits and we have no aid station. We've run out of food, we have no winter clothes, and we have little or no ammo," he said. The analysis of the situation was so matter-of-fact, it sounded even worse than when she had first heard it. "The line's spread so thin, the enemy wanders into our C.P. to use our slit trenches, sir. We just can't cover the line."

"The medical supplies are low as well, sir. I could honestly go without an aid station, but to have no plasma and little morphine left is a horror. Many of the medics have been forced to take from the men's aid kits," Cora added. Despair swept over the General's demeanor. It was visible in every aspect of his body language.

A tarp flew up and the sleep-ridden face of Lewis Nixon peaked from the foxhole. His eyes squinted into the light and then popped open as soon as he noticed McAuliffe standing in front of him. True to his character, he rose to his feet and continued with a Jersey confidence that Cora knew so well. The man never missed a beat.

"There's a lot of shit heading this way," were McAuliffe's parting words before he and Sink sped off into the fog.

The officers parted ways and Cora turned back to Eugene again. "I got everything, right? The morphine, the plasma…"

"Everything except for the bandages," he replied, rubbing his hands together.

Her lips formed a hard line as she mentally slapped herself. "Shit. I knew I forgot something! Do you think third battalion would have anything? Or maybe they're just as strapped for provisions as we are?"

"Well, I tried to find 'em, but I lost my way," Eugene said. The bandage spun between his fingers.

"Did you see them?" Cora asked.

There was no question as to whom she meant. All of those dead, frozen soldiers; blanketed by powdery snow. Eugene nodded and glanced down at the ground.

"We're not like the rest of them, you know. The death, it hits us differently." Cora paused. "There's nothing we can do about it, though. Que sera sera… what will be will be. We were put in this place for a reason, right? There's a explanation for why you're there and I'm here, right?"

Eugene arched an eyebrow at his boss. "I… I don't know, Capt'n."

"I'm rambling again?"

"Just a bit, but you're edgy about something. I can tell."

"Edgy, vexed… I always have this sick feeling in my gut that tells me something's going to go wrong. Sometimes it's just too much strong coffee on an empty stomach, but other times…" Her words hung heavy in the air, like smoke from a house fire. Eugene could taste the grief and the heat of them on his tongue.

He had never seen Cora so stricken before, her eyes so sharp and hard. The sparkle that he had remembered seeing the first time they'd met had died out. Ever since Captain Winters was removed as CO of Easy, the only light left in her blue orbs was faked. Her faced twinkled and shined with a brightness that the moon envied, but it was nothing like it used to be. And it was that glow about her that he admired, that uncanny ability of hers to wash all the anger away. Now, she tried a bit too hard and she knew that it was beginning to show.

"You're a great man for putting up with me, Eugene. I feel blessed to have known you," Cora said with a grin, gripping his hands. Her fingertips were surprisingly warm.

She leaned in toward him and kissed his cold cheek, lips lingering on the soft skin longer than they should have. The corners of his mouth pulled up into a smile. As she walked away, the snow crunched underneath her, a sound that echoed like drums… banging, banging in the night.

**KHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKH**

Cora was in the middle of a conversation with Bill when the shelling began. War was funny that way, one minute words were flying and then the mortars were. Eugene and Cora set off from their prospective holes the minute they heard the call for a medic, one a little quicker than the other. Eugene kept low, dodging the occasional tree branch. He was physically stronger than Cora was and far more graceful. She envied him for that; she had gone down at least three times before getting anywhere near the soldier. Her skills were starting to slip as the ice chilled her bones. Sparks flew everywhere as she ran, falling and getting back up again. Her heart pounded in her chest and everything appeared brighter than before. Tiny branches hit her helmet as her feet moved faster and faster, the voice of one her wounded brethren ringing in her ears.

Just as he appeared visible, the Earth seemed to slip from underneath her. Cora's thin ankle twisted midair and a subtle pop sounded. A pain, a fire, tore threw every fabric of her body as she crashed to the ground. It was gone. The ligaments in her knee had finally ripped and the kneecap was out of its proper place. Tears involuntarily streamed down her cheeks. One would assume that having a bullet in the thigh would hurt more, but not for Cora. Flat on her back, she reached down as far as she could to gently touch her left knee. Cora inhaled sharply and, with a deep breath, hit her fist against the bone. She let out a shriek as it went back. Eugene was nearby… she could hear him, the Cajun drawl addressing her somewhere in the dark.

"I'm comin'…"

But before she felt those thin fingers on her, she was encased by a pair of familiar arms. There was a soft scent of Dutch Pennsylvania that hit Cora like a head upon a down pillow. The pain didn't matter anymore; it didn't even seem to be there. The only thing that Cora knew at that moment was a farm boy with red hair who had saved her yet again.

**KHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKH**

Walking was not an option for Cora after the mortars had stopped and she had been stowed away safely in George Luz's foxhole. It was out of the sight of Sink, Dike, McAuliffe, or any other officer that would be against having an injured medic, particularly one that was female. Winters mumbled something to Roe about the field hospital in the town. The two men, both concerned for her well being, nodded and agreed. Cora quickly objected, with the same argument from Holland. Dick and Eugene stared at each other for a moment. "Only problem is she's gotta be some place where she doesn't have to move around a whole lot," the other medic said. The stress was starting to break him.

"I'll look after her," Dick said before turning to Cora. "You'll stay with me."

Something gnawed at Cora's insides when he announced it. If it were any other soldier, she doubted that she would have been upset, but since Paris, things were a tad rocky between the captains. She noticed more when he would look at her, seeing that there was something strange lurking just beneath the surface of his eyes. As Eugene wrapped up her knee in tight bandage, Cora acted as though her attitude was one of feminine defiance. She claimed that she didn't need so much looking after, that she'd heal in a few weeks, that she was perfectly comfortable with Luz. _Too bad I know you better, Cora Larson._

Carefully and gently, Cora was transported from one foxhole to another in Dick's arms. She clung to his neck like a damsel in distress would, wincing at the pains in her leg. Her placed her down softly on a green blanket that was laid out for her. A hot helmet full of coffee was waiting for her, courtesy of Nixon.

"It's an extra special brew for an extra special lady," he beamed before digging through his pockets for a cigarette.

"Spiked with Vat 69?" Cora asked.

Nixon nodded. She took a quick sip and knew that before the last drop in the cup was gone, she'd be completely sauced. The scent of nicotine wafted through the chilly air and settled deep in Cora's nostrils. She needed a fix. As if he had read her mind, Nixon tossed his pack to her. He winked as her gaze rose to meet his.

"You're too good to me, Lew," she said, pulling out a silver lighter from Paris.

"Now, aren't you sorry you ever called me a creep?" he teased, sitting down on the edge of the hole.

She looked at him dead-on and smiled. "Not for a second."

Nixon laughed gruffly. He reached a hand out and mussed Cora's hair playfully before sauntering away, flask in hand. Cora took another swig of coffee and contorted her face as the liquid passed her tongue. _This better do its job._ In the distance, she could hear her boys talking and laughing, digging in and cleaning their guns. She could hear Bill complaining about his condition, something that she yelled at him earlier for. _"Well, ya putz, what do you expect when you're getting your kicks with cheap broads? I swear, only a fathead like you would get a venereal disease in the middle of a goddamned war!"_

A pain flew through her leg as she shifted her weight… the healing was going to take longer than she expected.

**KHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKH**

"Shit!" Cora cursed, unable to change the bandage on her leg.

She had been fighting with the damn thing for hours and had been losing every step of the way. Dick had heard the battle ranging from the tent where he and Nixon were discussing the placement of the line. Doc Roe had gone into town, leaving Spina all alone to deal with things. When he offered to help, Cora declined, mostly because she refused to give into the feeling of incompetence that would overcome her if she had accepted. Dick, on the other hand, knew her too well. Cora would die before she'd ask for assistance with anything.

He excused himself from Nixon's presence before heading over to the foxhole. Lew watched his best friend rush to the aid of the woman, a disgruntled look on his face. Nearly all the men had gawked at Cora the minute she stepped into Camp Toccoa, even Nix was guilty of that, but none had carried a torch like Dick had. Nixon reminded him constantly of Cora's history, of her capricious nature, but nothing fazed the man. Since Paris, though, something had changed. Something in Cora had changed. Her eyes glistened with a hint of admiration when she looked at Dick, an allusion to something that was deeper than twisted flirtation. Nixon shook his head… C_razy kids._

Dick stood over her for a moment, watching the struggle. He climbed down next to her in the hole, his hands quickly covering her own. "Let me," he whispered.

She pulled back and watched as he slowly rolled her pant leg up to better access the fabric. His cold fingers touched her skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that a smile had crossed his face. There was a tenderness to the way he touched her that made her blush. The heat flushed her cheeks a bright red that she quickly wished away.

"Maybe you should have been a medic, Dick. You're not too bad, actually."

As he tied off the fabric, his eyes met hers. Her stomach fluttered nervously, but she never looked away. "No, I'll leave that to you," he said before sliding the uniform back down.

**KHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKHKH**

The cold ripped through Cora like it never had before. She had lived through some of the coldest winters, but those years had never prepared her for this. It was painful to move, but Cora did it, turning instinctively into Dick and pressing her frozen body closer to his. She hadn't thought about it until afterwards, and by then, it was too late. His entire body tensed as she pushed against him in her desperate search for heat, and then slowly relaxed while he wrapped his arms around her.

There was something natural about the way her body fit against his. All of her curves complemented his hollows comfortably and there was no awkwardness to the way his limbs enveloped her. Peace fell over the two and warmth radiated from the tiny space between their bodies outward toward the sides of the foxhole. The troubles of the world melted away as her breathing steadied, hot against his chest and neck. Cora drifted indolently off into sleep, positive that the feeling of Dick's lips upon her hair was nothing more than a dream.

* * *

Reviews = love.


	11. Stop Crying Your Heart Out

**A/N: **So, I attempted to get this chapter out on July 4th and, naturally, I'm twenty-two minutes late (according to my clock anyway). And if you ask, yes, that's what's taken so long. I was waiting for the Fourth of July. (Sue me?) Several other installments have already been written though, so it'll be smoother sailing from here. Lyrics by Oasis and George M. Cohan  
I don't own Band of Brothers.

**XI. Stop Crying Your Heart Out**

_'Cause all of the stars  
Are fading away  
Just try not to worry  
You'll see them some day  
Take what you need  
And be on your way  
And stop crying your heart out_

The word "paralyzed" bounced around in Cora's head as she sat on top of the jeep, holding tight to the bottle of plasma and stroking Smokey's hair. She knew he couldn't feel his legs. In fact, she was partially sitting on them. As he looked up at her with a once playful pair of eyes, Cora smiled her infectious smile and twirled a dark lock around her finger.

"You're going to be okay," she mouthed over the noise of the engine and the wind.

He simply nodded and let his eyes slip shut. In that moment, Cora was glad he couldn't feel anything. The ride to the field hospital would have been a lot worse for him if he had. The bumps that they had hit along the way almost sent her flying a few times and the plasma nearly slipped out of her hand at least twice. Of course, anything was better than being in between her soldiers and the Kraut tanks, despite the fact that it was where she belonged.

Time and time again, she was asked if there was anything in the world that she would die for. Cora always joked and told the inquirer either a good cup of coffee or a good dance partner, but the truth was that she'd die for anyone of them, any single one of her boys that were in the thick of things. She'd even take a bullet for one of the replacements if it had ever come to that. She was proud of them, proud of their stamina and their grit. Not one man that she served with – except for Foxhole Norman – was a coward. It was perhaps the only good thing that had ever come from Sobel's training. Each member of Easy Company had been taught to face an adversary head on, to go full speed ahead without blinking. Even as they shouted in pain, courage and strength still blazed in their eyes. Yes, she'd easily die for them.

Cora called out to the men waiting outside the field hospital when the jeep pulled up. She held on tight to the plasma as Eugene helped the soldiers ease Smokey off the front of the vehicle. Her eyes popped wide open as they headed inside, initially shocked by the look of the place. Men caked in blood lay everywhere; women sat by their bedsides with tears streaming down their dirty faces; nurses and doctors ran to and fro, ignoring the cries and the sobs. Booze bottles were being passed around amongst the men to ease their pain and their bandages were made from the bed sheets. This was worse than Holland in Cora's eyes… and it made her chest ache.

"Jones!" the man holding Smokey's feet called out.

A medic, his face twisted into a solemn frown, hurried towards them. He pushed aside the bottles and syringes on the empty table and instructed the men to place the wounded man on it. Cora continued to hold onto the plasma, not wanting to leave her friend's side just yet. The medic patted Smokey down, searching for his tag.

"Where's his tag? What's wrong with him?" he snapped at a sickly pale Roe.

Eugene blinked three or four times before answering. Even in the warming and luminous glow of the candles, he didn't look well. Something tore at Cora, almost ripped her at the seams when she saw him like that. Roe swayed a little as his mouth formed the words. Perhaps it was the smell of death and illness that made them both dizzy.

"What?" came the reply from the frustrated medic.

"He's paralyzed," Roe responded louder. "He can't feel a thing."

Cora handed the plasma off to a nurse as Roe began to wander away from the scene, his eyes resting on another medic performing a prayer over a corpse. She pulled "Jones" slightly out of earshot.

"Take the attitude down a notch, pal. We're all going through hell. It's called compassion. In this line of work, you really ought to have some," she said coldly, the words sharp and deliberately hostile.

As she walked away, she took Eugene by the arm and began to lead him out, away from the sadness and the heartache. Before they got very far, a French accent called his name out. They both turned to see a woman with fair features, not much older than Cora, wiping her hands clean. Concern swept over her face, but it was heaviest in her eyes. Cora knew how she felt and bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop any tears from flowing.

"Are you… Are you alright?" she asked.

She was gone before he could answer, running to wherever her name was being called from. Eugene looked down the aisle after her. Cora simply watched the exchange. She had never seen that look in her friend's eyes before, although she had recognized it in others'. He was smitten with this woman, possibly loved her. A smile rose to her face as she touched his shoulder.

"Come on, lover boy. Let's get back to the line."

&&&&&

December 25, 1944

Cora typically welcomed Christmas Day with open arms. There was an enchantment in the air on Christmas that wasn't present the rest of the year, a certain magic that infected every household, no matter the religion. The city was usually filled with the aroma of cinnamon and sugar, and every soul was bright with hope and joy. Cora would always leave the apartment early on those mornings and drive downtown. She'd park somewhere and simply walk around Manhattan, taking in all the sights and sounds and brilliance of the dawn. For those few hours, all seemed right with world.

But as Cora listened to the Germans sing "Silent Night" and her friends' voices in the foxhole next to her, those memories were all she had to keep her from breaking down. Luz was asleep on her shoulder and her legs were numb from sitting in the same position for so long. Harry Welsh had been hit and Dick had sent Eugene off the line again. Their last decent meal had been weeks ago and death always seemed to be just minutes away. _Soon. It's coming soon. The end is near._

"Hi," a voice said from above.

Cora looked up slowly to find Dick balanced on the balls of his feet next to her. The tip of his nose was a cherry red and his cheeks had lost all color. His eyes, though, were still a bright blue that, even in the darkness, she found comfort in.

"Hi," she sighed in return. "They don't take breaks on holidays, do they?"

"No, I guess not."

"I mean, first they torture us with that serenade and then they try to kill us. The Germans really are the most persistent group of people I've ever seen," Cora joked, though her tone lacked its normal joie de vivre.

Dick smiled at her a little and readjusted his helmet. His gaze stretched over the other foxholes for a moment before returning to Cora. "Are you okay?"

"Why is everyone always asking me that question? I'm supposed to be asking you all, not the other way around. You boys have enough to worry about."

Dick shook his head. He was too cold and too tired to start the same conversation with her over the way she buried her emotions. The middle of the Ardennes was not the place for them to get into the psychological reasons behind her use of humor to deflect the truth or her general avoidance of personal issues. But it still ate at him.

He hated the way that she just shoved things away, simply blew everything off. She would make jokes, shrug her shoulders, claim resignation, but all of her little actions were just mechanisms to cope. She teased, she flirted, and she avoided the problems of her life. Cora left delicate, emotional matters unfinished and let the loose ends of her life blow in wind. There was an apathetic air about her that sighed, "So what?" and "Who cares?" but Dick knew that, deep down inside, she cared. She cared more than anyone in the world, yet she was so obsessed with how people viewed her and the reputation she had to uphold with the world that she refused to let anyone all of the way in. They saw a side of her that was bold and intense, flirtatious and charming… a side that was all woman with the strength of ten thousand men. But behind those dark blue eyes was a little girl who was insecure, afraid of rejection, and wanting nothing more than to be protected.

"Of course, Cora. Merry Christmas."

&&&&&

The Battle of the Bulge had broken the soul of every soldier, medic, and civilian that witnessed it. Each man, woman, and child discovered what it meant to have a breaking point, whether it be because of the cold, the death, or the constant bombardment from explosives. Cora's came after Bill and Joe Toye got hit.

The shelling, like all of the others, began unexpectedly. Lipton's voice roared over the explosions as they all scurried, like rabbits, for cover. The trees snapped in half and the snow cleared. The Fourth of July saw less firepower. _Tommy get your gun, get your gun, get your gun. _The debris fell down around them, branches and shrapnel falling like a fatal rain. _Take it on the run, on the run, on the run._

Cora buried herself closer to Babe, who had spouted the line, "Location, location, location," to her earlier while she helped him dig his foxhole. _Hear them calling you and me, every son of liberty. _She yanked her helmet down so tight on her head, she worried that she would end up looking like a cartoon with a hole ripped through the top. _Hurry right away, don't delay, go today._ Cora hadn't prayed in months (in years, maybe), but at the moment that her life flashed before her eyes, God was on her lips faster than any man had ever been. _Make your daddy glad to have had such a lad._ In her mind, she could see her father's smiling face, the blue eyes that he had passed on to her glistening with an undeniable pride on that dock in Brooklyn. _Tell your sweetheart not to pine, to be proud her boy's in line. _She saw Sobel's eyes, in a trance, the first time they met and so bewildered the last time she saw them. _Over there, over there. _She could remember distinctly the expression on the face of every single member of Easy Company when they were introduced to her. Some gaped after her, confused and transfixed. Others rolled their eyes, sure that she'd never make it very far. And, of course, there was Dick, who watched her with a certain curiosity and anticipation. _Send the word, send the word over there._

"Duck!" Babe yelled as a tree started toppling over.

Cora watched, open-mouthed, as the pine got closer and closer. She could feel the blood trickling down her face from where the branches had hit her and hear Babe panting against her neck. _That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming. _Cora ground her teeth together as her pushed her bare hands against the rough bark, hoping to move the tree before it crushed them. The thing wouldn't budge._ The drums rum-tumming everywhere._

Suddenly, everything was still. Babe turned his face toward Cora's for a moment. "You okay?"

Cora nodded, her face on fire. She could hear Lipton, though he sounded so muffled and far away. Babe started then to call out for help. He stretched an arm out of an opening in the branches, trying his best to make himself visible. His other arm was positioned on one side of Cora's head and his lower body was on top of hers. Cora laughed a little at the situation, which came out as more of a snort, and wiggled her way out from underneath him. _So prepare, say a prayer._

"Lip!" she called. "Lipton!"

Three other voices were heard on the other side of the tree and Cora could see the three other figures from between the pine needles. _Send the word, send the word to beware. _The light broke through as one part of the tree was yanked away and their rescuers became visible. Lipton grabbed Babe by the forearms and pulled him away from the damaged foxhole first, then handed him off to Skip Muck. He crouched down again and found Cora, her face scratched and bloodied. _We'll be over, we're coming over._

"How bad is it, Lip?"

"You're still a dish, Cora. A real dish," he said, pulling her from debris.

She staggered out and dusted herself off, laughing again. "Nothing a little lipstick—"

"Incoming!"

_And we won't come back 'till it's over, over there._

&&&&&

"MEDIC!"

Cora knew it was Buck. There was no question. She'd know that voice any time, any place, anywhere. She crouched down low and ran, fast as her legs would carry her.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." She said in a whisper. No one else could hear it.

She reached him quickly; Shifty's hole hadn't been far from him. Cora wished, though, that she had given herself time to mentally prepare… just in case. But she hadn't given herself any time at all and the scene she was met with left several deep scars on her heart.

Across a snowy clearing stood Lt. Buck Compton, one of Easy Company's best leaders since Winters. His helmet had tumbled from his fingertips and was left, discarded, on the ground; a full head of blonde hair, too pallid to be of this world, was bobbing in the shock of the blasts. In fact, his whole body, stocky and masculine, swayed with the wind and the settling snow. Buck's eyes, once stunning and clear, were glazed over and almost without sight. Everyone was sure that he had left a little bit of himself back in Holland. Cora was sure that whatever he had remaining was gone.

"_She's done with me," Buck said to Cora._

"_She's a fucking moron."_

_Buck sighed. "No, she's just…"_

"_She's just the biggest idiot on the planet. What, she couldn't hold out a little while longer? You're fighting for your damn country! You're one of the best! You're… you're Buck Compton!" _

_He knew she was right, but he refused to agree. As much as he wanted to hate the woman smiling back at him in that little picture, he just couldn't do it._

"_Cora, she knows all of that. It doesn't matter."_

_She stared at him incredulously and threw her hands up in the air, aggravated. "Doesn't matter? Jesus Christ, Buck, you're definitely a much better person than I am. She doesn't deserve you."_

"_And what do I deserve, Cora? Because if you could tell me, that would be great. I don't have the slightest idea anymore."_

_Cora took his hands in hers. "You deserve a woman who'll stick around when times get rough and when you need her the most. Someone who'll be strong for you just like you're strong for her… always."_

_He looked at her, finally noticing the shape of her lips. "That's not true… I don't deserve you."_

"_I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about more than just some consolation prize."_

"_Best consolation prize I've ever gotten…"_

The smell of blood hit Cora's nose… the warmth rising from the icy forest floor. In a tangled red mess in the middle of the clearing were the mangled bodies of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye. A trail of blood was left behind where Bill tried to pull Joe to safety, a plan of action that had cost him more than he bargained for.

Cora couldn't move, couldn't think. She called for Eugene, for backup, for help. _Listen, Gonorrhea…_ She rushed toward them and gathered Bill in her arms. _Joe, hon, you keep coming back for more and I don't understand why._ The tears stung the open gashes they streamed down her face and onto his. _Oh, Bill, what am I gonna do with you?_ She didn't even hear Eugene's footsteps crunch in the snow.

"Cora, quit the waterworks, will ya?" the Philadelphia accent said.

"Damn, what does a guy have to do to get killed around here?" Joe groaned.

_Their jump wings gleamed silver in the dim light of the pub. "Here's to living to fight another day…"_


	12. When I'm Gone

**A/N: **This is more of a filler chapter really, but I couldn't leave the idea alone. The next chapter will be the last one spent in Bastogne (finally!). Lyrics by 3 Doors Down. I do not own Band of Brothers.

**XII. When I'm Gone**

_So, hold me when I'm here  
__Right me when I'm wrong  
__Hold me when I'm scared  
__You won't always be there  
__So, love me when I'm gone_

Cora's heels clicked against the linoleum floor of the aid station, the closest thing to a hospital that she had seen in ages. Somehow, Sink had managed to find a dress uniform for her to wear, although he feared it was too tight. Cora, on the other hand, disagreed wholeheartedly.

The nurse had told her that his room was at the end of the hall, the only room without a fully closed door. _Sounds like him…_ Cora stopped in her tracks, though, just as room 118 came into view and ducked into the ladies' room off of an adjoining corridor. She stepped in front of the mirror and gazed into the reflecting face, mostly satisfied with the appearance of the woman she saw. Her eyes had been outlined with a dark charcoal pencil and her lashes had been coated with even darker mascara. A cream-colored powder covered her tired skin and red scars that stretched from the middle of her forehead to the corner of her right jaw, while a peach blush brought some color to an otherwise pasty complexion. Her lips were painted a seductive, Bordeaux red as if to create the illusion that they tasted like wine. And her hair fell, shoulder-length again, in playful, wild spirals; layered, to frame her oval face. She smoothed the absent wrinkles from her dark green skirt and pulled the hem of her jacket down, making sure that every detail of her attire was flawless. She took one deep breath, in the nose and out the mouth, before turning on her heels.

The door to his room was open ajar; just enough for Cora to hear his steady breathing and a sigh and know that he was awake. She knocked twice, two quick raps, and waited for him to tell her to come in. His response was almost immediate, though not eager, so Cora took her time opening the door.

Bill grinned as his eyes fully took Cora in. She had lost some of the roundness in her hips from the last time he saw her in that style of uniform, but it looked as though her bust had increased by at least one cup size. The foundation on her skin just barely concealed her new scars and it was obvious by the way that her chin was positioned, parallel to the floor, that she knew it.

"Well, Jesus Christ! This must be my lucky day. First they serve us bacon for breakfast, then you walk in. Hot damn! I'm the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world," Bill said with a vigor she had missed. "Don't tell me ya came all this way just to see me?"

Cora closed the door behind her, careful not to shut it all of the way, and crossed the room to sit on the bed. "You bet I did. What'd you think, Bill, that I'd let you go that easy? Fat chance, pal."

Bill laughed for the first time in a week. "Ya know, I was so goddamn close! I thought I got out of your clutches."

"Silly boy!" she teased. Cora took a corner of one of the sheets between her thumb and her index finger and rolled it back and forth. "So, this is going to be a pretty stupid question, but I guess I'll ask it anyway… How are you doing?"

"Yeah, you're right. That is a pretty stupid question…"

Cora scoffed. "What I mean is—is—well, I mean—how are you holding up, Bill?"

"Honestly?" he asked, leaning back into the white pillows. "I'm not good. I've got one leg, Cora. I'll be the first one to admit that I've been in better situations than this. And I know I'm damn lucky to be alive, but sometimes, when I get a good look at the thing and think about what the fuck I'm gonna do, I just wish that I didn't make it. It'd be easier to be dead… and there'd be a hell of a lot less pain. But then I think about my Ma. I mean, she already lost one son in Monte-fucking-Casino—wherever the hell that is—and I can't imagine what would happen to 'er if—"

Bill stopped and turned away from Cora and set his jaw tight. She could see the tears and the way his bottom lip trembled, but she said nothing. She stretched her arms out to take his hand between hers, stroking the top of it with her calloused thumb.

"I'm sorry, Cora," he said once he composed his emotions.

"Don't be. I hate it when men apologize for having feelings. You think I go around saying, 'I'm sorry,' every time I get upset? If I did that, I'd never stop apologizing. I wouldn't be able to."

The two of them sat together, hands touching, for an hour. Eventually, Cora lifted Bill's hand up to her mouth and kissed it, and stood to leave. But Bill grabbed a tight hold of her, taking pleasure in the contact.

"Cora, before ya go, would ya do something for me?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Anything for you, Bill. Anything."

He paused. His cheeks reddened a little. "Would ya kiss me? I've always kinda wondered…" He voice trailed off.

Cora sat down next to Bill again, though closer. She looked at him and let all of her dirty thoughts bubble to the surface, leaving her mouth twisted into a "you-don't-know-what-you're-getting-yourself-into-big-boy" smile. She placed her hands on his hips as she leaned in and pressed her wine-colored lips gently against his. Out of habit, he kissed her back… and she returned the favor. Cora pulled back and smirked.

"Everything you hoped for?"

"Nah… it was more. I'll see ya on the other side of this, Captain Larson."

Cora laughed all the way to the door, and just before she left, she turned around and flipped a strand of hair back, the same way she did the first day they met. "Please, call me Cora."

&&&&&

The contrast between where Bill was hospitalized and where Buck had been put was huge. It was ebony and ivory, life and death, hope and despair. For one, it was dark. There were no peach-colored walls or carefully chosen paintings in wooden frames. There was no light in the place. And there were surgeries being performed openly near other patients, with the cadaver lying with his eyes wide open. It was all gloom.

Cora almost died three times trying to get to the tent flaps. Her heel had gotten stuck in the mud twice and she narrowly missed a bird trying to give her some luck. But her lipstick was without smudges and her hair was without unnatural flaw, all due to impeccable caution on her part. Dick would have called it a dedication to her craft of being overtly feminine at the perfect moments.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Compton," she said to one of the medics with a clipboard in his hand.

He smiled at her, a soft and comforting smile, and pointed down a long row of beds. Cora nodded in thanks and hurried down the row, ignoring the looks of confusion as she went. _It's like Gone With the Wind_ _all over again. _Yet again, it was Buck's hair that stood out from all of the rest. His uniform was filthy and torn in certain places. Like everything else about him, it looked worn. He was gazing up at the ceiling… at the void above him. Another piece of Cora's heart snapped off, bigger than the one before it.

"Hey, stranger," she whispered.

He sat up, the first time in days, and looked at her.

"Are you real?"

"I think I am, but you can pinch me if you want some valid proof. You know, I like your new residence. Are you thinking of making this permanent?"

"Cora…"

"Because if you are, I suggest an area rug of some kind. Or a floor lamp. Or maybe a nice chenille throw."

"Cora…"

"It could really liven the place up. Make it a little less, you know, field hospital-y…"

"Cora, what are you doing here?"

She paused. What was she doing there? It was a question she had asked herself a million times on the drive. After she had visited with Bill and Joe, she was so certain that she was all cried out. But her tear ducts were clearly masochistic… they liked the burning sensation she always got in the corner of her eyes when she wanted to cry, but couldn't because she still had to be so strong for them. As she stood there, they were at it again.

"Well, I went to see Joe and Bill today and I thought that while I was at it, I should see you as well. I mean, I know Malarkey comes around all of the time to bring your mail, but I figured you'd like a little female company."

"How were they?"

_And I was so hoping for a 'female company' joke. _"Bill was in semi-good humor. He isn't the same Gonorrhea, but that's to be expected. Joe, though, was a different story. He wasn't ever exactly a chatty guy, and now I think it's gotten worse, but I like to think he perked up a little more with me being there. Of course, I also like to think very highly of myself, so who knows."

"Yeah…"

Buck put his head back down on the thin pillow and sighed, not looking at Cora anymore. She bit her lip and inhaled sharply. Finally, with a shake of her head, she moved from of the foot of the bed to the side.

"Alright, Mr. Mono-Syllable, move over!" she said as she pushed him for the side of the bed.

She sat down first, then swung her legs up next to his and leaned back against the frame of the cot. One hand she left rested on her stomach, while the other stroked his blonde hair. They were both silent, staring. Then Buck spoke.

"I'm a coward, aren't I?"

She stopped and looked at him. "A coward? You?" Cora started to laugh, and then she started to laugh so hard she almost fell off the bed.

"It's not that funny, Cora. For once, I'd wish you'd take something seriously."

"And I wish you'd be serious too. You jumped out of airplanes… behind enemy lines. You lead men from Normandy to Holland to here. Coward? You're joking, right?"

Buck sat up again. "No, Cora, I'm not fucking joking. Jesus, why does it all have to be a joke to you? I'm not here because of trench foot, Cora. I'm here because I lost it. I couldn't be strong anymore!"

"Who says you always fucking have to be? Hmm? It's war, for fuck's sake. You're going to lose it every once and a while. I've lost it twenty thousand times since Toccoa. In case you've missed that lovely memo, I'm not a sane person," she said, nodding occasionally.

"Oh, Cora, don't give me that speech…"

"Don't talk like an asshole and I won't. Now, you listen to me. I have been with a lot of men, socially and otherwise. Some have been great, others have been strange, and many of them have sucked the life out of me. But I have never been surrounded by a better group of men in my entire life, and I went into the Algonquin once or twice with a boyfriend of mine."

At this remark, Buck smiled, and from there she continued.

"You are one of the most dedicated and brave men that I have ever known. You are not, I repeat _not, _for one moment allowed to think of yourself as anything other than the greatest thing in my life. And you may never think of yourself as a coward."

Buck was quiet, reflective. He placed his hand on hers and nodded. "I love you, Cora Leigh Larson."

"I love you more, Lynn Compton. More than all of the coffee and cigarettes and music and martinis in the world."

* * *

Reviews make me swoon.


	13. Jezebel

**A/N:** So, this is basically the last depressing chapter (but at least this one has some lighter moments). Most of this chapter was entirely unintentional, though. When I started typing this out, it sort of gained a mind of its own. Things I hadn't planned on happening just yet happened. Hopefully, it makes it all just a tad bit more interesting.  
Lyrics by Iron & Wine and E. Y Harburg & Billy Rose. I do not own Band of Brothers.

**XIII. Jezebel**

_Who's seen Jezebel  
Will the mountain last as long as I can wait  
Wait like the dawn,  
__How it aches to meet the day_

Muck and Penkala were dead. That was the news that Cora returned to after her one day away. The tears stung at the corners of her eyes again and she shook her head. She wanted so much to cry, but something always stopped her. Cora sighed as a numb feeling washed over her. _I want to wake up now._ Cora meandered around the forest, mixing with the others that were milling about. She felt as though she were miles away. Physically, she was in Belgium. Mentally, she was buried in a pine box in some cold cemetery. _Say, it's only a paper moon hanging over a cardboard sea. But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me._

The coffee, yet again, had guided her into the vicinity of Dick Winters. Or, perhaps it had been caused by some higher power, something bigger than anything she could ever fathom… she'd never know. Either way, whenever she was upset, in pain, or longing for gentle words, she ended up next to Dick. _Yes, it's only a canvas sky hanging over a muslin tree. But it wouldn't be make-believe if you believed in me._

She studied his profile for a moment, soaking up every spare second she had.

He was quite lanky: his legs, his arms, his torso. Everything seemed stretched out. His jaw was strong, with the hint of stubble returning, and his nose was almost straight; the slight imperfection being the place where he had broken it once in his youth. It was his lips, though, that she noticed the most… an odd sort of thing for her. They were set in a pout and pursed just enough to make them more prominent on his face. Cora blinked, hoping that any thought she had would disappear.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," he said, not looking at her. He knew she wasn't in her formal uniform any longer, but he figured she hadn't removed her makeup yet or let her hair be ruined of its unruly style, and he wouldn't run the risk of falling even more for her.

"Yeah, well… yeah. Mind if I steal a cup or two?"

Dick finally got the courage to look at her. _I knew it… someone should have gotten a picture of you in that uniform._ She sounded so listless, so isolated. She wasn't herself.

"Are you okay?"

Cora took a swig of coffee, and then a gulp. She watched as Dick's tongue darted out to moisten his chapped lips and the way he pouted a little again while he measured her reaction to his question. Something turned in the pit of her stomach and suddenly her whole body ached. _Hormones. Fucking hormones._ "Okay enough."

Dick nodded until his eyes stopped for a brief moment on her chest, watching it rise and fall like waves upon a white sand shore. He thought back to the summers and springs, when sometimes it was too hot for her to have her shirts buttoned up all of the way and whenever she leaned forward in front of him, he could see the tops of her breasts. It was such a small thing, as Sobel had seen her completely naked, but something about catching a glimpse of such a faint amount of skin made those moments all the more special for him.

"I'm sorry I always ask, but I worry about you," he said.

Cora bent her head to gaze into the nearly empty cup and felt all of her emotional walls suddenly slip and fall through the cracks of their foundation. The cup landed with a crash on the ground as her hands flew up to cover her face. The sobs shook her entire body as she began to double over from the pain. Dick stood instantly and crossed the space in two strides. He pulled her to him and smoothed her hair and shushed her, breathing slowly and steadily, just as the snow began to swirl around them.

She sniffled as she leaned back from him, looking up into his eyes. Dick reached his hand up and touched the scars on her forehead with his fingertips. He traced them down to her cheek, brushing against the side of her nose and directly beneath her eye; along the corner of her red mouth and to her jaw, where he gently stroked her earlobe. A sugary glaze of lust came over Cora's eyes suddenly and her breath hitched in her throat. She placed a hand at the base of Dick's head, her fingers absently twirling the hair. She didn't make a move to pull him toward her, but she didn't move away either. Dick could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he slowly tilted his head and she carefully guided him. Both of their eyes slipped shut and Cora could feel Dick's grip tighten on her waist. _I've waited so long for you._ He touched his lips to hers tentatively while she held him there, the slight pressure making everything seem hazy. They broke apart, only their heads leaning back to allow their eyes to connect once again. Cora could feel a force building up inside of her, the blood rushing through her body. She trembled, and then inhaled deeply before capturing Dick's mouth fully and discovering the slightest taste of virginal sweetness on the tip of her tongue.

"Captain Winters!" a voice called.

Just as they had done in Paris, Cora and Dick leapt far from each other. They wore their guilty expressions and tried to wipe any traces from their lips before Lipton walked through the tent. He glanced at both of the captains, confused by their fidgetiness. Lip took a long drag of his third cigarette and reported his thoughts about Dike to Winters, and Cora slipped out the back unnoticed.

She practically ran to Buck's old foxhole, the only place where she knew that she could be alone. As soon as she plopped down into the dirt, she drew her knees up to her chest. Cora rocked back and forth until she finally put her fingertips to her lips and savored in the overwhelming feeling, an emotion she found impossible to describe to herself. All she knew was that it was similar to the feeling she had gotten the first time she saw Fred Astaire dance, when she went to the pictures to see Charlie Chaplin; when she first saw Scarlett charm her way into Rhett's heart, got spun around a dance floor to a swinging big band, or stayed out all night sipping vodka martinis with extra olives. What it was… was magical.

&&&&&

Cora tried her best to ignore Dick the next morning, not because of any regrets she may have had, but because she knew that he was going to have to lay down the law with Dike. It took a patience and concentration that she didn't dare distract him from. He was in leadership mode, even when they finally saw each other.

"Cora, you're going to wait with Nix and I until you're needed. It's going to get bad out there and I don't want you in the thick of things right away, got it?"

"Of course I do," she said, trying to hide any emotional inflection in her voice.

Dick looked about and then shifted his gaze back down to Cora's. His features softened and he stood close to her, their hips almost touching. "Yesterday was… I can't even…"

"I know. You don't have to say anything about it. We'll figure it out later."

"Together?"

Cora scoffed and backed away from him, not wanting to cause a scene on such a day. "Oh, come on, Dick. You act like we were strangers before!"

As she walked away, he watched her… really watched her. Dick had never been considered a Casanova in his small rural town; in fact there was some speculation to whether or not he had been into girls at all. It wasn't until he started going steady with Miriam Lowe in high school that the rumors subsided. This was mostly due to the fact that Dick was probably one of the few men in Western civilization that wanted to wait until marriage, something that other men (outside of Lancaster, PA) found strange. But he was still a man, and as he watched Cora's hips sway, the urges that his father had spoken to him about in his early teens were evident by the fire that seemed to burn in his veins.

She had him exactly where she wanted him.

&&&&&

Easy Company could be seen running across an eighth of a mile of open field, their olive green uniforms contrasting against the white, snowy ground. They emerged from the woods like nothing that the Krauts had ever seen, with blazing firearms and battle cries. The snow fell in flurries around them and left a cloud over the field as the soldiers ran.

Cora stood on the edge of the woods with Dick, Colonel Sink, Nixon, and several others, listening to Dick yell toward the men and watching as they fell, one after the other, limp to the earth. Dike had stopped them for some reason, leaving Easy out in the open. Mortars began to fall more as they scrambled for cover and the Germans decided to further showcase their artillery. He refused to go forward. She couldn't understand why, but Dike refused to go forward. She could swear that over all of the explosions she heard the words, "Fall back."

Dick got on the radio finally and Cora could hear Luz on the other end, yelling at Dike. There was no way to tell what was going on. A few more of the men fell, their blood spraying on the fresh snow.

Cora grabbed Dick by the arm. "Tell me what needs to be done and let me go out there."

He looked at her with a horrified expression, as if she had just asked to cut out his heart. "No."

"Dick, I could go out there and take over. He's only a lieutenant. That's why I was promoted to captain all those years ago, for just this reason. My men are dropping like flies out there!"

"Exactly, they're dying," he said, pulling her closer and whispering. "I can't have you dying too."

He turned then away from her to find that Dike was still sitting there. Dick's nostrils flared suddenly and, for the first time since Cora had met him, he cursed. He swung his gun forward and started to run. "Oh, fuck it! You have to keep moving!"

But as he ran, Sink and Nix ran after him. "Dick! Captain Winters! Godammit, you do not go out there. You're the Battalion Commander, now get back here!"

Dick took one glance over his shoulder before stalking back, angrier than before. Sink started to say something regarding his attachment to Easy, but Dick simply cut him off.

"Speirs, get yourself over here!" he called. "Get out there and relieve Dike and take that attack on in."

Ron came rushing past Cora before speeding out towards Foy. She stared forward as he ran, praying. _They're in capable hands now._ The men started to move forward and actually take the town as originally planned. Just as a building in the distance caught into a fiery inferno, though, a call rang out over the field.

Cora winced, but with a deep breath, pulled the canvas bag over her head and started for the clearing. Her jaw clenched tight when she felt Dick's fingers wrapped around her wrist just as she reached the very border of the tree line. Cora's chest heaved with labored breaths and she turned warily to face him.

"Don't go," he said, his tone heavy with fear.

The call came again, more urgent than before. Cora closed her eyes and bit down hard on her bottom lip as a single tear rolled down her cheek and neck. She opened them again and inhaled sharply.

"I have to."

She slipped out of Dick's hold and ran toward a haystack in the middle of the field where a replacement sat next to the wounded man. Cora stumbled to a stop as Norman Dike's blank face stared up at her. The replacement, a young red-head that she hadn't gotten a chance to know yet, was covering his head at the sounds of the gunshots.

"I think he's dead, Captain Larson," he said in a heavy Southern accent.

Cora knelt down next to Dike and removed her right glove. She pressed two fingers against his throat, but she couldn't feel a single movement underneath his icy skin. She reached into the pocket of her bag and pulled out a small, square mirror. Cora placed it under his nose and waited for his breath to fog up the glass, but nothing happened. She sighed then, and closed his eyes. _"You know what, Foxhole Norman, next time you want to mouth off to me, I suggest remembering that your life is in my hands… and if I decide not to give a shit, you're royally fucked."_

"I think you're right, kid."

&&&&&

Cora sat in the convent in Rachamps and waited for the ceiling to fall down around her. She wasn't sure that it was safe, especially the way she had positioned herself against Eugene, with her head in his lap. Her eyes kept slipping shut as they listened to the choir that the nuns had brought in and enjoyed the warm candlelight, which had softened everyone's features.

Her thoughts constantly drifted to Dick, though, and as she flowed in and out of sleep, she could feel the pressure on her lips. Cora still couldn't pinpoint what she felt for him exactly, although love did seem fairly realistic. But the last time she had been in love, she had also been very wrong and highly delusional. _Say, it's only a paper moon hanging over a cardboard sea. _She promised herself that this time it would be different and she wouldn't be so foolish… but as soon as that kiss came flooding back to her memories, all of her promises disappeared. _But it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me._

_You dirty jezebel, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Reviews = swooning.

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	14. Slow Dancing In a Burning Room

**A/N: **To everyone who has reviewed... Thank you so very, very much!  
By the way, I lied when I said that the previous chapter would be the last depressing one. There'll be more sadness to come. Sorry, folks!  
Songs/lyrics: John Mayer, Dinah Shore, & The Andrews Sisters.  
Don't own Band of Brothers.

**XIV. Slow Dancing In A Burning Room**

_It's not a silly little moment  
It's not the storm before the calm  
This is the deep and dying breath  
Of this love that we've been working on_

With Foy and the Battle of the Bulge behind them, Easy Company should have felt more at ease, but really there was more of a collective feeling of having the life sucked out of them. Instead of earning a brief break from the possible death and destruction, the remaining members were rewarded with the nickname, "The Battered Bastards of Bastogne," and a scenic view of the Moder River, Germany, and the troops on the other side that were hell-bent on killing each and every one of them. It seemed like it was never going to get any better. Oddly enough, back in the States, things were looking up. The economy had begun to turn around, the cities were teeming with nightlife, and gambling was gaining popularity all over. At home, it was as if everything was right with the world, when, actually, the place was still in shambles. And when passers-by glanced at the faces in the trucks, this was all too evident.

Of course, there were two exceptions to the company. Cora and Dick sat side-by-side in the backseat of a jeep, leading the troops into the French town of Haguenau. Their eyes did not make contact once, but their fingers constantly touched. For Cora, there was an innocence about the whole situation that she hadn't enjoyed since she was sixteen. After that age, she hadn't been in a relationship that didn't involve sex. She had thought that maybe the Army would cure her of her slight nymphomania, but the first night she spent in Sobel's bed clearly proved her wrong. Even her rapports with some of the men had heavy sexual undertones that were often hard to ignore. And now that she had kissed Dick, it was bound to be all downhill from there.

Headquarters for all of the platoons and for the company had been set up by Speirs, who was looting the place when Cora walked into the former living room of the large house. The drapes were scorched halfway in some places and the wallpaper, pale blue with gold and silver vines and leaves, was torn and peeling away. The paintings and shelves were crooked; books were strewn throughout the room, and damaged furniture was piled high in the back hallway. Dust hovered in the air, covering the velvet sofa and other intact furnishing, including the piano. It had been hit by German artillery… often.

Lipton fell back onto the red cushions and leaned as far back as he could without actually lying down. Luz, a cigarette between his lips, hurried about, handing papers to Lipton and helping Vest organize. He threw a blanket over the patient as Cora yanked off her gloves.

"This is ridiculous, Lipton. I gave you something for that almost a week ago. It should have worked itself out by now. Please, I'm begging you, go rest," she said, placing a hand against his forehead.

"I will, Captain."

Cora stood and stretched. She could smell the coffee in the crates that Vest was placing in the corner, and just as she turned to ask him to take a package out for her, she was meet with a familiar face in the doorway.

"Web! I haven't seen you into… God, I don't even know anymore," she laughed upon seeing Pvt. David K. Webster.

Webster had gotten hit in Holland, at the crossroads. Since then, he had been at the hospital, the replacement depot… everywhere but Bastogne. Cora, of course, didn't (completely) blame him for it, but she knew at least sixty men that definitely would.

"Captain Larson, it's good to see you," he said, slightly breathless, mostly from her appearance.

Cora, like everyone else that he knew from Easy, had changed so much. She was thinner than before and her skin appeared to have lost some of its luster. The face he had once told the other hospitalized soldiers about was now blemished by scars, which would later become testaments to what had happened to her in the war. But he also noticed that she was standing taller than before, theoretically speaking, and he hadn't realized until then just how much he had missed her.

A skinny young man in clean fatigues walked through the double doors as Cora sauntered away from Webster, over to where Luz was hovering and counting. He looked like a little kid in a costume, like he was only dressing up for Halloween. She half expected him to ask her for candy.

"Is this the company C.P. for Easy?" he asked, turning to Lipton and then to Webster, who stood.

"Yes, sir," Lip croaked, shifting into a more upright position in order to not seem rude.

"Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs," the boy returned.

"He's on his way, sir…"

Cora sat down next to Webster on the piano bench and lifted her hands to touch the keys. Her fingers trailed along the ivory and attempted to play a tune. _There were three little sisters. Three little sisters. And each one only in her teens. _

Jones finally noticed the woman with the red cross around her arm and his eyebrows raised in slight confusion. He had heard about Easy Company's interesting addition, but he had expected something different. At the time, he couldn't recall what that something was, but whatever it had been, it wasn't the person humming along with the music she made in front of him. _One loved a soldier. One loved a sailor. And one loved a lad from the marines._

"Listen, for Christssake, will you go back in the back and sack out? There's some beds back there with fresh sheets," Speirs mumbled to Lipton, interrupting his introduction to Jones. "Jesus, Cora, keep your men under control. I thought you said you were good at that sort of thing."

Cora chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Normally I am, but Lipton's a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. And it's way too cold out for me to flash anyone. My breasts would just shrivel up from the cold and fall right off!"

Jones coughed loudly, clearly taking an offense to the conversation. Cora turned to him, her mouth open to say something smart, but before she could, the soft musky scent that she knew so well wafted in.

"Listen up," Dick said, combing his hair to the side with his fingers. "Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners."

Cora swung her legs around to the other side of the bench and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She pursed her lips as an exasperated expression made it's way across her face.

"This one comes straight from Colonel Sink, so, it's not my idea," Nixon said in a tone that almost suggested he was repressing a sigh.

"I'm shocked. Usually you're the one with the crazy ideas, Nix," Cora mocked. Nixon stuck his tongue out at her, only causing her to do the same.

As Cora's attention returned to Dick, she noticed just how battered he looked. The creases in his forehead had deepened significantly, as well as the ones around his eyes. He was paler than usual and his eyelids were an alarming shade of red. His lips, though, remained perfect. _This is a sickness. _She worried about him more and more as the winter months went on. She missed seeing his hair gleam scarlet in the sunlight and the beads of sweat that would travel down the side of his face in the summertime. Cora would have committed murder to see him warm again.

&&&&&

Jones and Webster were assigned to second platoon, and Cora was eager and willing to escort them there. She hadn't spoken at length with Malarkey since Muck and Penkala died, something she felt overwhelmingly guilty about. For the most part, though, the postponing of their talk had been mutual. Neither one of them actually wanted to speak about their losses, but Cora knew the relief that came with knowing that there was at least one other person who understood.

The two (semi) newcomers scurried along the sidewalk, slinking and ducking. Cora, though, walked naturally upright with an eyebrow quirked in their direction.

"Nervous in the service, gentlemen?" she asked.

"Not at all, Captain," Jones answered.

"Why is everyone asking me that question?" Webster mumbled.

Cora let out a laugh as artillery whistled overhead. Her eyes grew wide and as she broke into a run, both Webster and Jones right behind her. The three of them stopped near the base of a concrete structure. Each only took one jagged breath before taking off again, hurrying this time over to their building. Cora flung herself over the cold railing and helped the others haul their bags up. She quickly scurried through the door way and into the battered foyer of the tall house.

"You think I would have learned by now: don't relax for a single second. It's impossible," Cora grumbled, removing her helmet and letting her curls fall loose. Jones had said something, but she missed it… a song was playing on a loop in her head. _If you ever go down Trinidad, they make you feel so very glad. Calypso sing and make up rhyme. Guarantee you one real good fine time…_

Cora climbed the stairs two at a time and reached the landing almost instantly. She turned toward the sound of low voices and sashayed through the door with open arms. The faint smiles she was met with was enough to keep her own spirits up. _I should have been with the USO. _She fell instantaneously into Liebgott's embrace and stole a quick sip of his coffee, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Malark, this is Lieutenant Jones. You know, the West Pointer. Speirs sent him with Webster." The two shook hands and Cora wrapped her long fingers around Malarkey's forearm. "I think we should talk later."

He looked at her through the corners of his eyes and nodded. There was no question as to what she meant. His gaze turned back to Jones, who set his helmet down on the table and fixed his perfect, clean hair. Cora glared at it with a slight envy… her brain was battling to decide what she needed more: a shower or sex. _Drinkin' rum and Coca-Cola. Go down Point Koomahnah. Both mother and daughter, workin' for the Yankee dollar…_

"So are you going to introduce me to the men?" Jones asked.

He spoke to Malarkey as though he were just another sergeant, something that amazed Cora. Webster had mentioned the newspapers on their way over to second platoon, so Jones must have known what sort of situation he was walking into when they sent him to the 101st. If he didn't, he was an idiot.

"Well, some of the men are downstairs and the rest are right here," Malarkey said, his posture rigid.

Cora bit her bottom lip again and smirked a little before turning to stare out the window while the others harassed Webster. The sky was an eerie shade of gray, an omen for things to come. The trees trembled in the wind, causing her to shudder with sympathy. She could hear the men talking around her, but it all seemed to dissolve into a soft hum and then into a melody again. _Drinkin' rum and Coca-Cola. Go down Point Koomahnah. Both mother and daughter, workin' for the Yankee dollar…_

&&&&&

Cora decided to pass on the showers with the men. There was running water and a tub in her quarters that she thought would relax her more than the wolf-whistles. She gathered up her new uniform and new bag, which was filled to the brim with fresh medical supplies, including scissors. She waved them at Eugene, who raised two clean pairs from his bag and nodded.

She hurried over to her own personal headquarters and shut the front door carefully behind her. Overall, it wasn't in any better condition than the company C.P., but she didn't have to share it with anyone else. The window treatments were a faded green and the walls were half-covered in a pale yellow print, while the torn sections revealed beige paint. The sofa and chairs were relatively dust-free, the shelves were packed with books, the plumbing worked, and there was an entire pantry full of canned foods that hadn't gone bad yet. To Cora, it was the Ritz Carlton.

She tossed her new bag, uniform, and other supplies onto the bed and raised her arms over her head in a cat-like stretch before heading toward the bathroom. Cora took a glance at herself in the mirror and pinched her cheeks. Her scars had faded into dull flesh-colored lines that were thick in some places and thin in the others, but they didn't bother her as much as they did before that snowy evening in the Ardennes. And she could still feel Dick's icy fingers trailing along the raised marks just before he kissed her, just before he took her whole world and spun it off its axis.

Cora turned the ceramic knob of the clawed bathtub and let it run until steam rose from the water. Her boots dropped to the wooden floor with a loud thud and her socks were tossed beside them, allowing Cora to wiggle her toes for the first time in weeks. The rest of her dirty, weathered clothing soon followed until she was covered in nothing but goose bumps as the cold air hit her bare body. She slid deep into the tub and sighed contently as the heat enveloped her, a lidded look of satisfaction plastered to her features. Cora took one deep breath, pinched her nose tight, and completely emerged herself in the water… unable to hear the knock coming from the front door.

He didn't have a clue as to what he was doing there, standing in the living room of her quarters. He didn't have any particular reason why he wanted to talk to her, except to tell her that he just wanted to see her again. But he couldn't tell Cora that, not without coming off too strong, although, unlike her, Dick had been harboring a love for her from the beginning. It was rooted within him so deep, that it was starting to gain precedence over his brain, a fact that become more obvious as he began to move through her open bedroom door. Dick called her name out once, partially savoring in the way that the syllables rolled off his tongue. He turned down into the corridor, looking for any sign of her.

"Cora?" he called out again.

A door opened behind him and a soft light flooded the hall. He spun around quickly to find Cora, clad only in a thin blue towel. She looked up at him with relaxed eyes, not finding the situation at all embarrassing… other men had seen her in less. Dick, on the other hand, struggled with turning away and staring. His brain ultimately compromised, and he caught her from his peripheral vision.

Her dark hair clung to her neck and shoulders, already curling wildly. The terrycloth material that she had wrapped around her barely covered her chest and ended mid-thigh, allowing plenty of her clean skin to show. He could smell a hint of cinnamon and gardenia, an aroma that was uniquely Cora, on the air and it took most of his willpower for him not to rush her.

"Hiya," she said, tucking a wet spiral behind her ear.

"H-Hi," Dick stuttered, his gaze focused on the wall in front of him. "I just came to see you."

Cora laughed. "Well, then you've done a fine job. Stick around a little while, Dick. I'll put on some clothes and then you can stop blushing."

He nodded, listening to her gentle laughter as she walked down the hall and into her room. Dick waited on the sofa for her and drummed his fingers on his thigh. _Lord, keep me from making love to that woman. Amen._ Outside of the magazines that the boys passed around back in Officer Candidate School, she was the most that Dick had seen of a woman in her natural form. He knew that from that moment on, he wouldn't be able to look at her the same way… he'd always picture Cora half-naked. When she emerged moments later, her hair drying sporadically, she looked almost vulnerable, even in her boots and uniform.

Cora stood awkwardly in front of Dick for the first time in the three years that they had known each other. _What is wrong with me?_ She laughed and then crossed the room to him to take his hands in hers. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. _I must be insane._ The two of them stood in silence, simply looking at each other. _I think I'm at a loss for words… _Cora bit down on her lip and glanced up through a fan of lashes, then placed her palms against both of his cheeks and drew him to her.

Her lips pressed hard against his, trying to express to the desperation she felt. Dick's mouth moved with Cora's, softer and gentler: the only way he knew how to be. His arms tightened around her waist and he was then exceedingly sensitive to exactly where their hips and chest touched. And somehow she had gotten his lips to part and had fully captured his bottom lip. Dick realized, then, that all of Cora's talk over the years hadn't just been talk.

Cora broke the kiss, though only for a moment. Her lips traveled along Dick's jaw line and the freshly shaven skin, and down his neck, which had been hidden by scarves and coats for far too long. As if by instinct, she unzipped his jacket and reached out to slide it off of his shoulders. At first, Dick went with it—even in the chill of February, he was starting to overheat—but when she loosened his tie and her fingers began nimbly unfastening the buttons of his shirt, his hands flew up to stop her.

"Cora…" he panted.

She looked up at him and then away. "Sorry," she said through heavy breaths. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

Dick laughed and backed away from her, getting his clothes back in order. Cora sat down on the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her. She watched as he pulled his coat back on and made his way over to sit next to her. He gave her a few quick glances out of the corner of his eye then let out a loud laugh.

"Bet none of your little Pennsylvania girls knew how to do that," Cora said, starting to laugh with him.

"If they did, I didn't meet any of them."

As they laughed, Cora settled against Dick's chest and he draped an arm around her slender shoulders. She listened as his heart beat in rhythm with hers, steady and strong. There had been very few times in Cora's life that she felt completely whole, but the moments that she spent with Dick—whether it was in the middle of warfare or simply near each other—always made her feel as though she were with the other half of her self, the other half of her soul.

"So," she said finally, "what's this I'm hearing about a patrol?"

"Well, Regiment wants some prisoners. There's an outpost on the other side of the river and I was told to gather fifteen men, including a translator, to cross over, gather the prisoners, and demolish the outpost. It just seems like a waste this late in the war, especially for Easy… after all the men have been through."

"Colonel Sink must be off of his medication or something. What time is the patrol?"

"0100. Why?"

Cora scoffed and sat upright to look at him. "Why do you think, silly? I have to be prepared. I'm going with them."

"No, Cora… you're not."

Dick knew the second that the words came out of his mouth that he was going to regret them… and as Cora's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed, he honestly did.

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Review, ahoy!


	15. Serve The Ego

**A/N:** Loving all the reviews I've been getting. It's made the writing process go so much smoother! Anyway, here is a long chapter for your reading pleasure. (P.S. There's a lot more swearing this time around. Just a quick disclaimer.)  
Don't own Band of Brothers.  
Lyrics by Jewel.

**XV. Serve the Ego**

_Who says a woman cannot serve?  
It would be my pleasure  
Who says it is not my destiny  
To let you control me_

"Get out," Cora said, her voice low.

She was trying so hard not to yell, not to pick up the empty vase from the table and hurl it at him, not to push and shove him out the door and into the street. But as he stared at her, wide-eyed, she didn't see Dick Winters… she saw Herbert Sobel. Cora watched through cold eyes as her beloved farmboy morphed into her former Jewish lover. His jaw softened, his face rounded, his lips became fuller; his eyes became naturally doe-like and his nose protruded more significantly from his face. When he opened his mouth to say her name, she heard that Chicago accent that she had learned to despise over the years… that nagging voice that could be surprisingly soft when they were alone, but so harsh and barking when they were amongst the men and in front of his superiors. As if they didn't know that she was the more dominant one in that relationship.

"Get now," she repeated, the volume rising.

"Cora, wait. I just don't want you getting hurt. It isn't necessary for you to be out there, Cora. I'm trying to protect you," he said, almost pleading with her to see reason. _I should know better._

"You're always trying to protect me… and I'm sick of it. I know it's dangerous. I want danger! I want to do something that isn't safe. I've lived my whole life that way. Jesus Christ, why can't any of you understand that? I don't want you looking after me!"

"I think you do, Cora. I think you want someone to protect you and take care of you…"

"What I want is for one fucking person to accept me for who I am!"

"But I do, Cora." _Don't say it. Don't say it._ "I love y—"

She didn't want to hear those three words again, not from him. Not from the face she pictured them coming from. Not again.

"Get out!" she screeched. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

The vase flew through the air and shattered against the wall behind Dick. He ducked as Cora continued to hurl anything she could get her hands on at him: books, empty bottles, pieces of firewood, chairs. He slammed the door shut just as a coffee table smashed against it, receiving strange looks from soldiers walking by.

Dick had seen her mad before. Hell, Dick had seen her furious, but he had never witnessed this kind of hatred from anyone in his life. He knew it would be a long while before she would even consider forgiving him. _I've lost her._

&&&&&

Cora had collapsed on the kitchen floor, eating a chocolate bar that she had saved in case of such an emergency. It melted in her hands, covering her fingers in a sugary sweetness and leaving her with a feeling of completeness. She knew that it wasn't a healthy addiction, but nothing in her life had ever been healthy. The smoking, the boozing, the sex, the jumping from airplanes… she was a freak, a whore. She was who she was and no one was going to change her again, especially not a man. If she ever was going to end her wild ways, it was going to be on her own accord.

After Sobel, Cora refused to be held back or held down. She was through with being in love, through with a man who her mother probably would have approved of: a Jewish boy from Chicago, a captain in the Army, a man who could put her unmanageable daughter in her place. She was done for good… and then he kissed her. For a time, she felt herself being sucked back in by the familiarity of how his arms felt around her and the taste of him. She would lie awake at night in Holland and hear their old conversations. _"I love you," he said just above a whisper before placing a shaking hand on her thigh._ She imagined how he would explain himself and then how, when they were alone, he would make it up to her. Cora usually had to force herself to remember the bad times: the fighting, the emotional abuse, the violent sex that would end in her storming out seconds after it was over. Often, though, the good times would resurface: the laughter, the letters he'd write, the flowers he'd buy her whenever he went off the base… and, of course, the make-up sex. But the man who had left her in England was not the man she fantasized about and the man she liked to remember was never who he really was.

The worst part of it was, although the two were polar opposites, Cora sometimes couldn't separate Dick from Herbert. She couldn't quite comprehend the fact that Dick wouldn't shout or belittle her the way Sobel had, and he wouldn't emotionally tear her to pieces either… but as her relationship with him reached a more intimate level, she suddenly felt the need to protect what was left of her heart. And when he stopped her from doing a job that she was meant to do, the walls around her grew white-hot spikes that were guaranteed to keep out any unwelcome guests. She didn't see it as him protecting her… she saw it as him making a mockery of the situations she could handle.

As she licked the last bit of chocolate from her palms, she knew her mind was made up. There would be no reconciliation… she was going to hate Dick Winters for the rest of her life.

&&&&&

Harry Welsh had finally returned from the hospital after a month or so of being away. He never imagined that anything would be worse than being on the front lines, but that hospital… Guarnere hadn't been lying after all. As he stumbled into the Company C.P., he wasn't really anticipating much of a welcome, maybe a pat on the back and a "Hey, how's it going?" Other than that, though, he was only expecting Cora to waltz over to him, throw her arms around him in a tight embrace, and give all of her entertaining dramatics that were apart of her charm. But it was far from what he found.

Harry had heard that lately, she had been snapping at everyone. She called Cobb an incompetent bastard more than once, told the West Pointer to fuck off, and told Webster to take his superior "Look at me, I went to Harvard" attitude down a goddamn notch. She threw Dick out in a violent rage, went head to head with Speirs, and had taken to some French liquor in her coffee that left her with a strange buzz. No one seemed to question it, though, because it typically left her in a better mood… something about the mixture of caffeine and alcohol that balanced her hormones and her brain.

The patrol, he knew, had something to do with Cora's sudden switch from Jekyll to Hyde. Dick had refused to let her go, but allowed Vest, the "mail jockey" (as Cora so tactfully put it), and Jones. When she found out that information, she went even crazier. _"Vest? You're fucking joking, right? So, is that what I have to do? If I just ask all nice and calm, 'I wanna go on the patrol, sir,' you'd let me go? Call you, 'Sir,' and everything? Ya know… fuck everything that I've done over the past three fucking years. No, instead let two inexperienced fuckers go in my place. You're just so… fuck!"_ Rock bottom had finally caught up with Cora Larson… and it showed.

Sure, she had been angry before. The Toccoa men knew what she went through with Sobel. They remembered all too well the raised voices, the hard stares, and then the powerless and defeated expression that would be there after Cora backed down because he had knocked her down so low to the ground that there was no use in fighting to get back up around him. In the end, she was always left hating herself for her damn insecurities, her weaknesses. Even a few of the replacements, the ones that were now fairly integrated, had been present for round two, just before Market Garden. That time the frustration was more towards Dick than herself, but it was still there.

But she had turned into a train wreck that February of 1945. Colonel Sink considered demoting her, but she bounced back for a day or two, fixing up a soldier that had a piece of shrapnel lodged in his side. The man lived and Cora continued on as Captain. Then the day before the last patrol reared its ugly head and she was back to her old tricks: the bitterness, the aggravation, the resentment. Whatever disease Cora had, there was no cure for it… of that they were all too sure.

&&&&&

"Nixon, you're supposed to be the intelligence officer. Get a clue," Cora sighed, taking another sip of VAT 69 from a glass tumbler she had found in the cupboard.

"Cora, you're supposed the be the surgeon. Get a heart," Nix said, pouring another glass for himself.

She narrowed her eyes at him, far from amused. "Just say what you have to say and leave."

"Fine. Look, Dick wasn't in the wrong here. He was thinking about what was best, what was going to get less people hurt or killed…"

"So he's letting West Point go out there? I call bullshit."

Nixon raised his index finger to his lips and shushed her. "Will you just shut up for two seconds? First of all, Lieutenant Jones is only going along as an observer. Second of all… oh, why am I bothering? You might as well know. Dick loves you, okay? He loves you like I love this drink. He's been stuck on you for so long that it makes me sick. I've been trying for years to get him to see the light, but he's as stubborn as you are!"

He paused to take a final swig and then filled the tumbler again. "And here's the real kicker: you love him just as much! Or else you wouldn't be acting so crazy right now. I mean, look at you, Cora! You were mad at Liebgott the other day. You've never been mad at him! You've never really been mad at anyone besides Sobel and Dick, every once in while. And maybe me…"

"It's called flirting, Nixon. Better known as Slut Syndrome. They're happy, I'm happy. Everyone is just peachy. There are times when I get frustrated over things, but you know what, before all of this shit, I was generally a happy person. And if I wasn't I put on a damn good show. I just thought keeping morale up would be good. Keep everyone thinking I'm a reasonably sane person and everything will be okay."

Nix laughed. He reached out to pour another drink, but then stopped. He corked the bottle and leaned back. "Cora, no one ever thought that you were sane to any degree."

"It just seemed so natural to become so close. It was something I never felt like I was ever able to do with my real family. For the first time in my life, I feel like a sister, even though I've been one my whole life. And now I have brothers! Tons and tons of brothers. And it's a good feeling, to feel like I'm apart of something."

"Sure, I mean, you're more like a little sister to me in these past three years than Blanche has been my entire life. And I'm not saying that you should stop doing exactly what you were doing. It works. Trust me, with you around morale is certainly up. Men like having something pretty to look at. I should know. To tell you the honest truth, I've been looking at you from the beginning…"

"Pig," she muttered. "I wish I weren't so damned flattered."

"But, look, that's not my point. My point is that you need to give Dick a break. He doesn't just look at you, Cora. He embarrasses himself over you. It's disgusting!"

Cora laughed and the alcohol almost came shooting out of her nose. "I understand that, Nix. I mean, I really do, but when he does things like that he just… well, he reminds me of my mother!"

It was Nixon's turn to laugh riotously. He refilled Cora's glass.

"No, I mean it! Look, when my mother was pregnant with me, she was convinced she was going to have a little boy. She kept have dreams of boys running everywhere."

"She was right!" Nix chuckled.

"Yes, I know she was right. Now, listen. When I turned out to be a girl, Pop was so disappointed. He always tells me he wasn't, but I know it isn't true. I'm not sure exactly when I finally figured it out, but I remember being five-years-old and kicking Gerald Friedman in the shin for not letting me play ball with him. He said I couldn't because I was a stupid girl. Something about that always stuck with me. And I remember that Pop just stood by and watched. Ma was the one that finally stopped me and pulled me back from beating the brat up. She was furious with me…"

Nixon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"There was some pride in his eyes after that day. Then he started telling me stories of the war, while my mother was out dealing with women's rights. She figured that if she was going to have that many daughters, then she was going to make sure they had some say. But, anyway, one day Pop told me a story of a combat medic that he knew. He went on and on about this man who had saved his life when he had gotten a case of trench foot and talked about him like he was a god. And I knew that's what I had to do. I wasn't the son that he was expecting, so I had become it. But I think I was always meant to. I wasn't cut out for what my sisters did. I couldn't be like them. I tried, but something always seemed to pull me in the wrong direction. I always went off track. And I always saw that Pop wasn't completely bothered by it like Ma was. I mean, he wasn't thrilled. We've had plenty of discussions about how bad it was for my reputation in the neighborhood. But Ma… she hated my drinking and smoking and the boys I would get myself involved with. I couldn't get that approval from her, but I always pretty much had his."

She stopped rambling for a moment. Cora pondered for a while, wondering if perhaps all of her anger toward Sobel and Dick was more out of resentment for the fact that they were doing the same thing her mother had done. Her mother, who never once listened to a word she actually said; who never bothered to understand her like she did with all of her other sisters, just because Cora was her father's pride and joy. And when they stopped her because of her gender, because of the things that made her exactly who she was, it reminded her of her mother and the constant lectures on never getting a husband "that way." _What I want is for one fucking person to accept me for who I am… _it was all she had ever wanted.

&&&&&

The streets of Haguenau were illuminated by the moonlight, allowing Cora to easily find her way to second platoon. Her legs felt shaky underneath her as she listened to the distant splashing coming from the Moder River. _0100 hours. _She wished she were with them, wished she had gotten the courage to sneak unto one of the boats and travel along with them anyway, but Colonel Sink would send her home if she had, and if she were stateside while her boys were still fighting the Germans… death sounded like a better option.

The lights were on in the top left window of the house. Malarkey was still up, although she had no doubt that he would be. His entire platoon was crossing into enemy territory. There was no way he was sleeping either.

Cora took her time going up the stairs. The week of drinking and anger had taken a toll on her body, weakening her to the point where she found it hard to get up some mornings. She followed the long corridor to the last door, where the fluorescent glow of a lamp cast a long fan of light across the floor. She knocked quickly, then entered upon hearing a mumbled, "Come in."

Malarkey was spread out on the narrow bed, his feet propped up and his head sinking deep into the pillows. In his hands, he held a worn copy of _The Great Gatsby _that she had given him long ago. She smiled at the memory and her eyes fogged slightly with fresh tears. Cora blinked the moisture away and went to sit down next to him.

"Shouldn't you be out on the patrol?" he asked, his gaze not leaving the page he was on.

"Are you trying to be funny?"

He folded the corner of the page down and closed it, sitting up to talk to her. "Maybe a little bit."

"Look, Malarkey, I—"

"I know, Cora. I just don't know what to say anymore. It hurts to talk about it… about them. I've lost my five best friends, Cora. And we've lost some damn good men. I just can't talk about it."

"They were damn good, weren't they? And Buck, Joe, and Bill still are damn good. And they won't be gone forever. Hell, even Muck and Penkala will always be around," she said, calmly. It was the first time she had been composed in a week.

"Yeah, right. 'They'll live on in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew them.' I know the sermon, Cora. It's just rough right now."

"Of course, it is. I'm sorry, Malark, I didn't mean to, you know, preach. I just kind of wanted to make sure you were okay. Not that I didn't think you were. You're not throwing chairs at people or anything… I worry sometimes."

"I know you do, Cora. I know." He paused for a moment. "So… what's going on with you and Captain Winters?"

Cora threw her head back dramatically and groaned. "I knew that was going to come up!"

"You don't have to explain. We all pretty much get it," he said, nodding.

"Get what?" Cora asked incredulously.

"You and Winters have a thing going. You two were always too close for it to be a normal friendship. And that was only in the beginning. But now? Cora, you and I may not be the best of friends or the closest in the Company, but I have a pretty good understanding of you. You wouldn't throw a chair at just anyone. You'd really have to care for a guy to do that to him. Maybe even have the hots for him…"

"Sergeant Malarkey, do me a favor… shut up."

Cora blushed profusely, causing both of them to laugh long into the early morning hours.

&&&&&

Johnny Martin ran from building to building. He couldn't understand why Cora wasn't where she was supposed to be; couldn't understand why, at a time like this, she'd decide to spend the night somewhere else. None of the damn medics could be found, and Martin felt some annoyance boil up inside of him.

Cora ran out into the streets, her hair bouncing wildly around her shoulders. She was panicked, trying desperately to figure out where they had taken the wounded soldier she watched from Malarkey's window being carried in. She heard her name being called over the gunfire and turned to see Martin rushing at her.

"Captain, follow me!" he shouted over the noise, breaking into a run.

Cora struggled to keep up, but finally fell into stride next to him. "Who's been hit?"

"Jackson!"

&&&&&

Eugene Jackson shouted as they attempted to carry him on a stretcher out from the basement. None of the men that Cora had lost over the course of the war had wanted to die, but Jackson was the first to make it known. Roe had told him to hang on, but the cries and overwhelming emotion caused him to buck against the hands that were willing to save him. His last breaths came out as mangled gasps for air until life simply escaped from his body. Dust rained down from the ceiling and pieces of plaster fell, adding to the scene Cora was surrounded by. Roe looked to Babe, who then turned to nod in the direction of Martin, Sisk, and others. Martin took a blanket from Sisk's shoulder and draped it over the boy's corpse. In the corner, Vest sobbed… Cora knew that he'd go back to sorting mail and would never long for combat experience again.

In that cold basement in Haguenau, 15 soldiers, two German prisoners of war, and four medics looked at the body. Some cried, some hung their heads silently, and one drank. Cora felt a heaviness in her limbs and her chest that would not be ignored. As she caught sight of Jackson's cold hand from under the thick blanket, she winced and could suddenly feel the world slow down. With only two people she was personal with in the room, she had never felt more alone in her life, even though she was surrounded.

"Let's get him out of here," Cora said as soon as the external noise seemed to die down.

&&&&&

On the day Easy Company was set to move off the line, Cora felt some relief, though not much. She had thought that Haguenau would be that breath of fresh air that they needed, seeing as they were sleeping indoors for the first time in months. But there was a black cloud that hovered over Easy and she had hoped that Bastogne was the torrential downpour, but Haguenau proved that the storm hadn't let up quite yet. They were all still waiting for their theoretical sun.

Cora lifted her bag higher up on her sloped shoulders, trying to balance everything. She looked back once, making sure nothing had fallen out, and when she turned around in the right direction, she smashed into Dick's chest. Their gazes wandered, never exactly meeting.

"I'm sorry about Jackson. I know how guilty you always feel whenever we lose a man," he said. "It wasn't your fault, though."

"No, it was yours. If you had just let me go, I could have gotten to him a hell of a lot sooner. He'd still be alive," she snapped, her body tense.

"That's not fair, Cora," Dick said in a soft, almost shy voice.

She looked up at him, her eyes burning. _There would be no reconciliation… she was going to hate Dick Winters for the rest of her life._

"Sorry, Major. I'm going to have to disagree," she said before saluting him and stalking off toward the trucks and slinging her bag up on the floorboards next to Luz's feet.

Dick watched as Cora turned to all the men around her and smiled. Her anger and frustration had simmered down and was then only directed toward him, something that truly ate at him every time he saw her. He longed to see her smile up at him again, to feel her lips caressing his skin, to be surrounded by the warmth of her body as it pressed against his in one of her loving embraces. He wanted to see her eyes filled with serene temperance, not revulsion. He wanted to love her… for exactly who she was.

* * *

Reviews = swoon.


	16. I Don't Like It Like This

**A/N: **Filler-ish chapter. Took me a while to pump this one out. I'm not fully satisfied with it, but I never usually am. ("And the worst critic award goes to...") Enjoy another lengthy one!  
Don't own Band of Brothers.  
Music/Lyrics by: The Radio Dept. and Rodgers & Hammerstein 

**XVI. I Don't Like It Like This**

_I can't calm down at all  
Panic is what panic feels like  
__Can't we just stay silent?  
Speaking now seems far too violent_

_My dearest Artemis_, the letter began. Cora ran her fingertips along the words printed in her father's messy handwriting and smiled at the nickname her father had given her long ago. Greek goddess of the wilderness, the hunt, dawn, and frost; daughter of Zeus; twin of Apollo; the representation of the feminine energies and potentials… and a virgin. Cora hadn't lived up to the latter aspect.

_Louise just recently left for her basic training for the WAC. You would be so proud of your little sister, as are we all! Even your mother, surprisingly. Augustine asked for you the other day. She's growing so big. It's hard to believe she'll be six years old next month. I remember when you were that age… she's not much tamer. Margaret just gave birth last week to another healthy baby boy, whom she named Henry. He has his mother's eyes, but I can see his aunt's spirit there already. He's bound to be a handful._

_In other, less joyful, news, Emily is now a widow. Jonathan was killed somewhere in Italy, but the specifics are unknown to me. She has moved back in with your mother and I for the time being. Her children have been staying in the room you shared with Victoria (who is now engaged to some writer she met in California). Em is still trying to find a way to explain to Susan and Jeffrey that their father isn't returning, but hasn't been able to do it quite yet. Your mother wants you to ask God to provide her with the strength to get through this misfortune._

Cora prayed right then and there.

_Your mother is doing well and has taken up experimenting with food again, much to all of our chagrin. I, too, am doing fine and have recovered from that cold. The business is booming again. It seems people are much more interested in buying books again. (Thank God!) We all love and miss you terribly, and pray daily for your safe return._

_Continue living for the moment. With love, your proud father._

_P.S. Forgive that Winters fellow. He sounds like a nice young man._

She looked over the last line of the letter over and over again. "Damn."

&&&&&

Cora stood at the counter in the mailroom and wrote back home to her father. Since Easy had gotten to Germany, she spent most of her time either writing letters (some of which she never sent) or volunteering at the aid stations in the area; while the men were off fraternizing with the local broads, looting the businesses and homes, or gambling. Of course, her foolish pride and New Yorker tenacity kept her from doing the one thing she truly wanted to do… or, the one _person_ she truly wanted to do.

Vest emerged from the back room with an armful of disassembled boxes, hoping that one of them would fit Captain Speirs' new loot. He wasn't sure if anything was going to be left when the Krauts finally returned to their homes after Easy Company had swept through. He hadn't been this busy in months. To make matters worse, Cora had been hanging around, making him nervous. Ever since he had gone on the patrol in her place, he was wary of her. For the entire month of February, she had glared at him and terrified him into submission like a beaten dog. Since then, she had apologized, but he still had the urge to duck away from her… just in case.

"Oh, Vest, would you happen to have an envelope lying around somewhere? And a stamp?" Cora asked, her tone cheery.

"S-Sure, Captain," he replied.

Cora stuffed the letter into the envelope, sealed it, and addressed it to her childhood home. She licked the stamp and placed it carefully in the corner before handing it over to Vest. He took it from her quickly and put it into the "out" pile before returning to his box assembly.

"Vest, when was the last time I apologized?"

He paused, thinking. "Last Tuesday, Captain."

"That long ago? Well, then, I'm sorry again for acting like such a cunt," she said, not bothering to notice the strange looks she received from several enlisted men that had entered.

"Already forgiven, Captain. By the way, there's one more letter here for you. I guess I missed it the first time I sorted through these."

He handed her a thick white envelope. Her name was written in a cursive that she hadn't seen in almost a year… Cora struggled for air.

She stuffed the letter in her pocket as Nixon burst through the door, as if it were some deep, dirty secret that no one was allowed to know about. He barely acknowledged her presence as she stood guiltily in the corner. Nix had been searching for his VAT 69 all throughout Sturzelburg without much luck. Cora even had the sneaking suspicion that the broken glass at a local store had been caused by none other than Easy's alcoholic. She thought it odd, though, that he was so particular about the whiskey he drank. Most alcoholics that she had known often picked their poison, so to speak, and stuck to it, but they were not willing to suffer through a dry spell if there was another booze available. She could even remember one instance when a boyfriend drank a bottle of cooking sherry (and ended up making a pass at a cross-dresser) because it was the only thing left to consume other than his cologne, which he had also considered.

"You know, Nix, I might have some left in that one bottle you gave me a while back," Cora said after Private Janovec had announced that Easy had one hour before they were once again on the move.

"Do you really?" he asked, enthusiasm dripping from his voice.

Cora felt the letter jab into her side. She ignored it and nodded. Nixon followed her out, down the street and around the corner to where she was staying. They entered the dark house, flipping light switches as they went.

"I guess it's a good thing I already have everything packed up. After all, an hour in Army time is more like thirty minutes," she said, opening the door to her room.

"Yeah, they're screwy. So, do you have it or don't you?"

Cora picked up her barrack bag and started rifling through it. After removing half of the contents, she found the whiskey and handed it off to Nixon. He hurriedly thanked her and ran back to his own room on the other side of the street. She stared blankly at the doorway, imagining Nixon as a cartoon character and the puff of smoke he would have left behind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a black rectangular box with a piece of paper tied to it on the dresser. Cora picked it up and removed the ribbon and the note.

_Cora, I heard that all women enjoy jewelry… even fiercely independent ones. With love (and apologies), Dick_

Cora removed the top of the box to reveal a gold bracelet with a single black pearl hanging from it. Her mouth dropped open as she picked it up and she could feel her skin tingle where the thin chain touched. Without thinking about what accepting the trinket would mean to Dick, she pushed up the sleeve of her shirt and clasped the bracelet around her wrist. _Don't sigh and gaze at me._ She held her arm up to admire the way it looked against her skin, the way the pearl swung freely. Her lips morphed into a broad smile as she cradled the gem between her fingers. _Your sighs are so like mine._

But then she remembered the true meaning behind the gift. Cora had never denied the fact that she was always more likely to see another's point of view if that other person happened to dangle something shiny in front of her, but had she really become so easily persuaded by jewelry? _Your eyes mustn't glow like mine. _Perhaps she had been a bit ridiculous…_ People will say we're in love. _

"Captain Larson, we're moving out," a voice called from the hallway.

Cora pushed her sleeve back down and tucked the bracelet inside. She stuffed the note in her bag and piled the rest of the spilled contents on top of it before slinging it over her shoulder. The corner of the letter jabbed into her side, as if to say, "Read me! Read me!" But she chose to ignore it.

"Coming!"

&&&&&

"You up for that kind of responsibility, Cora?"

Cora threw her head back in a hearty laugh. "What? Being married to you, Lieb? Honey, that's a walk in the park! You, on the other hand, wouldn't be able to handle all of this," she said, motioning to herself.

Every member of the company dreamt of what they do after the war. Some imagined returning to the States, welcomed by their women, to start families. Others just fantasized about spending time without the threat of death looming overhead. But, like mirages in the desert heat, visions of apple pie and familiar, warm beds shimmered before them, only to disappear as they traveled on.

"What'll you do, Cora?" Liebgott asked as he lit a Camel cigarette.

She took a long drag of her own as the pearl pressed against her inner wrist. _Don't start collecting things._ Her eyes flicked toward the head of the long procession of trucks and jeeps where she was sure Dick was. _Give me my rose and my glove._

"I'm not sure. I might go back to New York, probably try to get a job in a hospital," she said, trying to seem nonchalant.

"You're not going to get married?" Webster chimed in.

Cora smirked at him. "You know, for an intellectual, you sure are close-minded."

"That's not what I meant! I just… well, you and Major Winters… oh, never mind."

She knew the speculation, the rumors. The Fates had a plan for the Captain and the Major and it was meant to be as epic and sweeping as a Hollywood motion picture. Everyone knew it… and yet Cora refused to be apart of it. Every time she would go to forgive him that moment in Haguenau would replay in her mind, dance in her head until she was almost nauseous with grief. And she hid it, kept it locked away, so no one would know. _Sweetheart, they're suspecting things._ To the men in the company and in the battalion, there was an aura about her that was almost supernatural. She had to keep it that way.

"Major Winters thinks too little of me. I don't take that lightly… ever."_ People will say we're in love._

The letter prodded at her like a thorn. It felt as though it were tearing through her clothes and leaving deep gashes on her skin. _Read me. Read me. Read me._ There was no way for her to tell it to shut up.

&&&&&

They had ordered the Germans out of their homes. Not a single American felt guilty. They had slept in dirt for too long and been without the basic necessities for even longer. A few of the families even had dinner on the table… it was almost an invitation.

Nixon has been given the task to allocate the rooms amongst the officers. He and Harry shared an apartment, a spacious little place, and just across the hall, he found a tiny one bedroom flat. It was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, and it was here that he placed Dick and Cora.

"You dirty rat! Nix, you've got until the count of 'one' to get another place for one of us or I'm gonna to cut you open and toss your limp body down the stairs!"

"There are no more, Cora," he said coolly, blowing smoke in her face in the process.

"Did I also mention that I'm going to throw your intestines out the fucking window and into the street?"

Nixon grinned. "No, dear, you hadn't, but thank you for informing me."

Cora turned quickly on her heels and headed back into the flat, furious. She started rummaging through the icebox, through the pantry and the cupboards, through the fruit bowl. She eventually sunk her teeth into a fresh apple and ripped the flesh from the fruit. Dick shot Nixon a frustrated look, a look that signified a goodbye. He thought, for certain, that he was going to die in there.

The juice from the apple ran down Cora's chin as she devoured it. Dick watched her mutely when she wasn't looking and thought that she seemed almost satanic, almost capable of tearing a person apart in the same manner. She was practically feral.

"So, I'll take the sofa," Dick said after a long spell of stillness.

Cora pivoted slowly to look him straight in the face. Her eyes burned red with insomnia and caffeine deprivation. "No, Major. That wouldn't be very befitting of your rank," she said, her tone condescending.

"It also wouldn't be very gentlemanly. You can take the bed, Captain."

They both paused and simply stared at each other, blinking occasionally.

"I'd rather not."

"Fine, have it your way. Just keep being impossible, Cora, but I guarantee you'll be really lonely because of it."

Cora rolled her eyes and wiped her face clean on a kitchen towel. "Wanna bet money on that?"

"'I'd rather not.'"

&&&&&

Dick sat at the small kitchen table, only made for two. He fiddled with another apple that he found, debating whether or not to eat it and pondering Cora's willpower. That afternoon in Haguenau hadn't stopped repeating for him and each time he remembered it, he could vividly see the hurt that had lingered beneath the blue eyes he dreamt of. He couldn't quite find the right words to tell her.

She sat across from him, playing Solitaire with a worn deck of cards that she had bought in London and humming along to the Pachelbel Canon that came floating from the radio. Her fingers flew through the pile, first searching for the aces before proceeding haphazardly. Within minutes, she was shuffling the deck and laying out another game. Her movements were fluid, entrancing. Dick watched her hands as they moved. A flash of the first time he came into contact with those hands sparked before him… a memory of soft, ivory skin and long, elegant fingers; cherry red nails and sterling silver rings. Even then she was cool to the touch, icy and warm at the same time.

"What are you staring at, Dick?" she said, continuing casually with her game.

He broke from his reverie and shined the apple on his sleeve. "I wasn't staring."

Cora sighed lightly. "Sure, you weren't staring. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe this is all just a dream and we're all actually in our own beds, in our own homes, sleeping. Maybe this whole war is an illusion."

"Cora, why can't you ever talk like a normal person?" he said before taking a bite of the fruit.

She scoffed. "Tell me something, Dick, when was the last time you met a normal person?"

"Never, I guess."

"Exactly what I thought."

Cora neatly packed the cards into an organized pile and slid them back in the box, all in perfect time to "On the Beautiful Blue Danube," which had begun playing. She stood and flitted around to the tune. She stopped at her where her jacket was strewn across the sofa and the letter had partially fallen out. Slowly, Cora picked it up and sank down onto the cushions. She simply stared at the envelope, making a mental pro-con list in her head about opening it. Her heart swelled with the violins and woodwinds and thudded along with the bass instruments that crackled in. She had completely forgotten that Dick was in the room until he spoke.

"Where did you learn all of these songs, Cora?"

"My Pop. That's all he played in his bookstore. He wasn't a big fan of jazz, really, but he knew classical composers like you wouldn't believe. He was practically an expert. I was probably ten when I learned to waltz. I think it was the only time he considered me his little princess."

Dick took another bite from the apple. "Is that from him? The letter?"

"Yeah," she lied. "Yeah, it's from him."

Cora slipped her index finger beneath the flap of the envelope and tore it open. Another song came on, a serenade that she recognized from Mozart. She took the papers from their sheath and smoothed them out on her lap. She bit back a sob as she read the first line.

_Cora Leigh, it's been a long time…_

&&&&&

Dick stumbled out from the bedroom in the middle of the night, unable to sleep as usual, to find the lights in the living room on. He walked in, expecting to find Cora sitting upright, possibly playing cards or reading. But when he found her, she was still in her uniform, boots on, asleep on the couch with the letter scattered across her chest. Her one arm dangled off the side of the couch, hand brushing the wooden floor. The other arm was rested on her stomach, rising and falling with the motion of her diaphragm. Dick's mouth curved into a smile as he watched her sleep, her mouth partially open and her hair disheveled. Her face was covered in dried tears, which had left dull streaks of black mascara down her cheeks. Cora had never looked more vulnerable to him before, even though he had seen her at her worst more times than he could count anymore.

Dick noticed her wrist then and the trinket that hung upon it. He wasn't sure what it meant. He could feel his stomach flip inside him. _Perhaps I haven't lost her after all._ He lifted the pages away from her, pushed them into a tidy stack, and reached to set them down on the coffee table… that was, until he caught sight of the opening line.

_Cora Leigh, it's been a long time…_

Cora Leigh. Only one person in the world had ever called her that… Sobel.


	17. No I In Threesome

**A/N:** No cliffhangers for this chapter. I give you permission to rejoice now. Enjoy!  
Don't own Band of Brothers.  
Music/Lyrics by: Interpol (and Rodgers & Hammerstein)

**XVII. No I in Threesome**

_Through the storms and the light  
Baby, you stood by my side  
And life is wine  
But there are days in this life  
When you see the teeth marks of time  
Two lovers divide_

Dick knew that it would be wrong to read another person's mail. It wasn't the way his mother raised him and she would be horrified if she knew. Cora, too, would probably kill him., but she had also never been a light sleeper. _No! What are you even thinking? _Dick folded the letter and placed it on the table. Whatever the bastard had to say to her was her business. He refused to be overprotective of her… clearly, it wasn't how to keep her out of harm's way. He took the crocheted blanket off of the back of the sofa and covered her with it carefully, not wanting to wake her up.

Cora, though, would have preferred to be awoken, since her slumber was far from peaceful. She dreamt of that letter… that damn letter. She could hear him saying it, hear the infliction in his voice and picture the mouth that was forming the words. The dream-Cora was sobbing, just as real-Cora had been.

_Cora Leigh, _

_It's been a long time, but for me, lately, you seem to be everywhere. I've heard our song eleven times this week and I constantly smell cinnamon. I always turn around to see if you're there, but you never are and I feel so disappointed. I tried coming up with reasons for writing this that made it look like I don't miss you half as much as I do. But, really, I'm writing to apologize. What I said back in England was untrue. One day, I promise, I'll grow up enough for you to see that…_

He had signed it with his usual flourish: _Love always, Your Herbert. _Cora felt as though her chest had been ripped open again, and when she looked down, she saw a gaping hole. Sobel stood just opposite her, holding her heart in the palm of his hand. The organ pumped as he gripped it tighter, bringing it toward his face. His mouth opened wide and he shoved the heart in, sinking his teeth deep into it. Cora fell to her knees, horrified, as the blood covered his face. Sobel's eyes went black and his mouth had twisted into a sadistic grin.

"_What's wrong, baby?"_

Cora shot up, drenched in a cold sweat. Her hands flew to her chest, checking to see if everything was intact. _It was only a dream… _She pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled sharply. The image of Sobel covered in her blood still lingered. She drew her knees to her chest and began rocking back and forth, humming softly with the rhythm of her motions.

Finally, she noticed the blanket that had been draped over her and that the letter sat, perfectly folded, on the coffee table. Cora looked around the room and saw Dick, asleep, in the adjoining armchair, which was much too small for his lengthy frame. In repose, Cora discovered, he was even more innocent. It took all of her willpower not to get up and settle onto his lap, to fall back to sleep in his arms. Instead, she removed the blanket from her body and covered him with it instead before heading into the tiny bedroom in the back of the flat.

"As you wished, Major," she mumbled sleepily. "Anything you say."

&&&&&

They all knew that a large number of German soldiers had surrendered, but seeing them was a different matter. The sound of their footsteps echoed over the roadways, each movement in perfect unison with the others. It was stood out to Cora most, even over the rumbling of carriages and the Allied vehicles. The Krauts held their heads high as they struggled along, the pride and dignity still evident in each movement.

Cora, unlike Webster, couldn't be bothered with the Germans. She stared slightly downward and out from the back of the truck, allowing her to observe Dick from the corner of her eye. She dissected him, analyzed and calculated… it was if he were apart of some lab in school. He was looking around, watching the Krauts pass on one side and the German countryside on the other. Cora wished she knew what he was thinking, wondering if he had read Sobel's letter. It _had _been folded up on the table and she was positive that she hadn't moved it before falling asleep. _Of course he read it. He was too quiet… _Dick's head turned back to look ahead of him and his eyes flicked up to hers. Cora could feel her stomach flutter.

_Over the years, Cora, you've become an addiction for me. I'm not sure if I know how to quit you. I remember you saying that you were a hard habit to break. I'm feeling sort of silly now, since I always thought you were joking. You were right. I was wrong. And I do love you, Cora. I think I always will. Until the end of my days. _

_I just figured you ought to know that…_

A year had gone by since Sobel had left her. It had been seven months since she had seen him. Dick had been there for her, and allowed her to be there for him, since the beginning. Sobel, Cora was sure, loved her, but in the only way he knew how to love… but it wasn't enough for her. She had never cried in front of him, never showed any emotions beyond desire, amusement, and anger. Dick, though, had seen her at her worst… and he still remained by her side. He let her run wild, let her drink and swear and smoke without a single word about how it would probably affect her health. _What I want is for one fucking person to accept me for who I am… _A light bulb went off above Cora's head.

He already did.

&&&&&

"We found something," Perconte said, out of breath from running.

Cora raised an eyebrow at him. She tucked the clipboard of medical supply papers under her arm and gave him her full attention. "Frank, what the hell are you talking about? Found what?"

"Cora, I don't know what it is, but you should probably come take a look at this. It's just… I don't know."

She nodded quickly and scanned the crowd of men, most of them flirting with young German women, for Winters. Finally, he rushed out of a building, also preoccupied with papers. "Dick, Frank says we have a situation. Don't bother asking me what it is because he's speaking 'panic' and I don't have a clue."

Dick quickly instructed all of the men to load into the trucks. Frank rode in the passenger seat of the jeep and Cora was told to hop in the back with Nixon and Speirs. For the first time in months, she did just as he told her. He was just as taken aback by her response as he was grateful for it.

As they rounded a corner through the forest, a long row of tall wooden posts and fierce metal fencing came into view. Dozens of scrawny, striped figures clung to the wires as if it were the only thing supporting them. Their bones protruded from sickly pale skin and each of their faces expressed fear. Cora instantly thought of caged animals, dogs that had been beaten into submission by their masters. Smoke rose from various spots across the earth and rickety wooden shacks dotted the barren landscape. A stench filled the air, a smell that Cora had become accustomed to. It had been in Holland, in Bastogne, in Germany, in every aid station and field hospital she had ever stepped foot in. It was the smell of death… and it hung over the unknown place like a black cloud.

As the thick metal chain was cut and the gates were pushed open, Cora moved forward to stand beside Dick. Her pulse thudded in her ears and suddenly, everything seemed too bright and too loud. Her arm began to move, almost involuntarily, until she felt her fingers tighten around a familiar, freckled hand. Dick looked down at Cora just as she gazed up at him, her eyes glassy with shock. He nodded and gave her icy hand a light squeeze before leading her, and the rest of Easy Company, through a sea of skeletons and six-pointed stars.

&&&&&

Cora wasn't sure where to begin. They were all starving and dehydrated, cold and dying. She couldn't decide how to help them. What made matters worse was that those were her people. They were Jews, mostly, with a few Poles and gypsies. The stars on their shirts had been the first clue… those damn goldenrod stars. From that moment on, the Star of David would only remind her of that day, instead of being a beautiful symbol of her faith.

The second clue came in the form of a phrase she had heard one of them repeat to any soldier that he passed: Ich hob dir lieb.

_Ich hob dir lieb. Ich hob dir lieb. Ich hob dir lieb._

It wasn't German, of that she was sure. It was Yiddish… the only other language Cora understood. She began to hear it more as she milled about, and before long, she felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach.

They were her people…

&&&&&

"He said that there was a women's camp at the next railroad stop," Liebgott told Cora as she checked the vitals of a young man, who couldn't have been any older than twenty.

"Jesus… alright, I'll go over there as soon as the others get back with the extra food and water. I've radioed for other medics to get here and bring plenty of supplies."

Joe nodded and handed her a canteen for the boy. "Cora, did you… d-did you see the train… the train c-car."

"Yes," she said curtly, trying so hard to rid the image of limp limbs and leathery faces from her mind.

Cora turned away from the memory and smiled gently at the boy, who had tears streaming down his gaunt face. She reached her hand up and wiped away the moisture.

"Gitte neshomah," he said, nodding weakly. _Good soul._

"Gut gezugt." _Well said._

He laughed for the first time in years and found himself amazed at the sound of it. Cora wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and ferried him to the front of the line as the men arrived with truckloads of cheese and bread.

&&&&&

By the time Colonel Sink had arrived at the camp, chaos had ensued with the food distribution. They had crowded around the vehicles, shouting and reaching, and were quickly eating and drinking. Cora had encouraged it, hoping that even just the slightest bit of food and water would help sustain some of them until the next day. Sink, though, had brought along the regimental surgeon, Doctor Kent, who had a far different idea.

"Now, Doc, you tell Major Winters, Cap'n Nixon, and Cap'n Larson what you just told me," Sink said with his heavy Southern drawl.

"Yes, sir," Kent said, giving Cora a sharp look. "We need to stop giving these men food right now. They're starving. If we give them too much to eat too quickly, they'll eat themselves to death. We need to keep them in the camp until we can find a place for them in town."

Nixon was horrified. "You want us to lock these people back up?"

"Or else they might scatter," Kent continued. "We need to keep them centralized so we can supervise their food intake and medical treatment. So, until we can find some place better—"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Cora said, interrupting.

"Captain Larson, you know as well as I do—"

"Then I obviously don't know a damn thing, buddy. Now, I'm all for keeping them centralized. That I understand, but to take away the food now is just… so damn evil. You think that's what's best for them? If we stop feeding them, more will probably die before the sun sets, got it?" Her hands clenched into fists and her eyes narrowed. "You know, men like you are all the same. They get into the medical field because they realize that being a doctor means having control over people's lives. They start playing God and watch people suffer just to _feel_ that control. They're the same men that beat their wives and abuse animals. Tell me something, do you hit your wife, Doctor Kent?"

"Cora…" Colonel Sink warned. "It's a crying ass shame, but let's get it done."

"I don't like it anymore than you guys…"

Without warning, the last screw that was holding her together that day finally came loose, and Cora saw red. "Then why the fuck aren't you fixing it, you stupid bastard?!"

She came at the man with full force, charging like a bull at a matador. Dick swung his arm out in front of Kent, catching Cora by the waist. She kicked and clawed at the air, trying desperately to escape Dick's grasp. He pulled her tight against his chest, even as she pounded her fists against him.

"Why aren't you helping them?" she sobbed wildly, clinging tightly to Dick. She sagged against him, her knees weak from her plight, and he easily cradled her in his arms.

It was obvious then, more than ever before, that it was indeed Fate that had brought Dick and Cora together that summer of '42. And as the other paratroopers looked on at their surgeon and their former CO, they were forced to agree.

&&&&&

"Dick, I'm going to need to borrow one of these jeeps," Cora said when she finally regained her composure.

"Why?" he asked, worried. "You're not going to run over Doctor Kent, are you?"

Cora smiled. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and sighed heavily. Breathing was starting to become difficult, between the smell and the ache in her chest, but she struggled through the motions. "No, no. I just, uh… well, I was hoping to go to the women's camp. I'm sure they could use my help there."

Dick nodded and reached his hand out to give her the keys. _Starlight looks swell on us._ Cora paused, slightly bewildered by the further proof of her realization. _Let the stars beam from above. _The man that stood before her did accept her. The man that stood before her did love her. The man that stood before her was not Sobel. And he wouldn't hurt her._ Who cares if they tell on us?_

"Dick… would you come with me? I…" She paused. Admitting it, she knew, was the first step. "I need you."

_Let people say we're in love._

&&&&&

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Dick set his pen down alongside the pile of paperwork he still had to finish and turned to look at the closed window. He felt a sudden wave of déjà vu as he listened to the persistent patter from the other side of the curtains.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He crossed the room and pulled the drapes apart, revealing Cora's face. The moonlight danced in her curls and made her silvering scars gleam. _I've never seen anything like you before. _Dick sighed and pushed the glass up before leaning out to talk to her.

"You haven't done this in a while."

"No, I haven't, and I figured there's no time like the present so, here I am."

Dick smirked at her. "I'm glad. I've missed these conversations."

"Well, then I'm glad you're glad. In fact, I'm so glad, I want to apologize," she said, before raising her hands up to show a small, cone-shaped bundle of light purple flowers. "It's for you."

"Where did you find this?" Dick asked, taking it from her.

"From someone's yard. It's a purple hyacinth. It means, 'I'm sorry.'"

Dick smiled and nodded. He looked down at the plant in his hand and admired it, then his gaze turned back to Cora's. _Just ask her. You know you want to. _"Do you want to come in?"

Cora's eyes grew wide for a moment and then squinted as she grinned at him. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'll just go around and let you in," he said over his shoulder as he went toward the door.

She laughed. "No need."

Cora jumped up, gripped the ledge of the windowsill, and hoisted herself off the ground as far as she could. She swung her legs up one at a time, until she was through the window, her boots making a loud 'thud' as her feet came down upon the wooden floor. She stood erect, hands on hips, as the wind blew through from behind her. Dick shook his head.

"Clearly," she said, "you forgot that little talent of mine. I've really become an ace at it by now. Between climbing out of my bedroom in New York and into Sobel's back in…" Her voice faded until silence filled the thick air and they were both left struggling for oxygen.

"You know, Dick, that isn't just to say sorry about being a first-class schmuck these past few months, but also because I lied to you… about that letter. It wasn't from back home. It was from—"

"Sobel. Yeah, I know. I didn't read it, but I can't think of anyone else that calls you Cora Leigh."

A heavy layer of sorrow hung over the room, which left Cora aching from the pressure. Her chin dropped to her chest and her arms twisted around her stomach, as if she were holding her organs in. Beads of sweat appeared along her upper lip and her face tightened. Dick instantly felt a need to rush to her, to gather her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but he wasn't so sure that that was true.

"What did the letter say?" he asked, wishing suddenly that he hadn't.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "He said that he misses me and that he still loves me. And I can't help but think that he's still living in some fantasy world. I mean, we haven't even seen each other in God only knows how long, but he just 'figured' I ought to know that he's still in love with me. I just don't understand him. Well, actually, I never did. Really never really wanted to, I guess."

"Why not?" He spun the flower between his fingers, knowing that the motion would keep him from losing his mind.

"Why would anyone want to comprehend a man like that? Plus, I thought that if I ever figured him out, I might be too much like him and then I'd _really _hate myself. I was already disgusted by how weak he made me, how pathetic I was. If he said 'Jump,' I usually asked, 'How high?' It was like I died a little everyday… until I was with you."

Dick stopped the hyacinth mid-spin. "What?"

"You always had a way of making me feel more like myself again. I'm not sure how, but you did. Still do. I swear, if I put a bowl of soup in front of you and gave you a stick, you'd pull a tiger out of it."

Dick laughed and drew Cora to him. He wrapped his long arms around her, pressing her close to his chest. She could hear his heart pounding as he pressed his lips affectionately to her forehead and he could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shirt.

"For what?" he asked, his fingers trailing softly up and down her back.

"For existing."

Dick moved back from her to let his eyes travel over her face, discovering that she was even more attractive to him when she was sincere. He cupped her chin gently in his hand and brushed his lips against hers. The simplicity of it brought about, for Cora, thoughts of candles; of slow burns and melting. Their lips moved, waltzed, slowly, moving in perfect rhythm with the subtle throbbing of their pulses.

It was official… Herbert Sobel was a thing of the past.


	18. She's Always a Woman

**A/N: **First, I want to thank every person that made it possible to get to 100 reviews. That's pretty amazing to me. I love the encouragement and support. I appreciate it more than you all know.  
Second, since you have all been so darn fabulous, I give you a _very_ long update to enjoy (hopefully), leading up to the 'big moment.'  
Music by Billy Joel; Dooley Wilson (from a little film called, "Casablanca")

I do not own Band of Brothers.

* * *

**XVIII. She's Always a Woman**

_And she only reveals  
What she wants you to see  
She hides like a child  
But she's always a woman to me_

White flags welcomed the 101st as they rolled through Berteschgarten, the former home of the Nazi leaders, the snowy Bavarian Alps looming dramatically in the background. There was a stillness to the place that made the Americans weary. It wasn't normal for them to experience calm moments, so they walked down the asphalt streets with their M-1s poised and ready to fire… just in case.

Cora was perched on the side of the jeep across form Harry, looking up at the tall Germanic edifices that crowded both sides of the road. She felt as though she were floating through a dream, swimming in a desolate and eerie sea. But when Nixon pulled up in front of the hotel and the giant red banners came into view, it became a sickening nightmare.

A bronze bust of Hitler stood proudly in the foyer. His sharp nose and stern expression has been sculpted perfectly and the artist had accurately portrayed the wide eyes, in which Cora saw fear. He had committed suicide only months earlier, after a large amount of his troops had surrendered and he was officially on the losing end of the war. He had taken the coward's way out, though Cora and Liebgott both agreed that either of them would have been glad to do it and save him the embarrassment of leaving his country in a time of pandemonium.

The clerk at the front desk trembled at the sight of the three officers that meandered through the lobby. He hurried to grab the guest book and escape with it, until Nixon stopped him. He waved the man away and began flipping through the pages. Cora went around the other side of the desk and peered over to see too.

"Why don't they keep a record of who hasn't stayed here? Wait, does that say Neville Chamberlain?" Cora said.

As Nixon and Cora read over the records of the hotel, Dick and Harry ventured into the dining room. Behind them was a loud clang of silverware as a waiter, who had been polishing, rushed out of the room. Harry went straight for the wooden box and flung the top open. His eyes grew wide with excitement as he started to remove his helmet.

"Kitty would love this," he said, glowing with the joy of his discovery.

Dick reached down and picked up a knife from the collection, admiring the crisp white handle and bright silver blade.

"How many brides get a wedding present from Hitler?" Harry asked, giggling.

"Well," Dick began with a smile, grabbing handfuls of forks and knives, "at least two… hopefully."

Harry stopped immediately and looked at Dick. "You're going to ask her?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Thinking about what?" Cora said, followed by Speirs and More. Her hair bounced with each step she took and the sunlight illuminated the faultless side of her face.

Dick turned to her nonchalantly, trying to keep his heart inside his chest. "About whether or not I want those candles too," he lied.

Cora nodded and went to inspect the other side of the room with Speirs, picking at the little trinkets. More, with enthusiasm lighting up his dark eyes, asked permission to climb the mountain and go for the Eagle's Nest.

Hitler's retreat, glistening in the bright sun like a beacon, called to every member of Easy Company, with the word _Currahee! _coming in on the wind. Dick danced around the subject, giving Harry instructions for Fox Company and the others of 2nd Battalion before giving the final instructions for Easy… to go up the mountain and take over the sanctuary. Cora grinned and began to walk, alongside Speirs, out of the double doors.

"You're going with them?" Dick asked, observant of the sudden jaunt in her movements.

The corner of her red mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk and the deepest scar, a jagged line that ran from the side of her nose and across the apple of her cheek toward her earlobe, crashed into the fainter, silver ones. Dick found that since the wounds of the Bastogne pine had healed and the scabs had been replaced by clean streaks, Cora had become more confident and, to him, more beautiful. The scars made her seem wilder than before, less graceful than ever, and fully justified.

"Hi-ho Silver," she said coolly, but with a mocking undertone, and dashed out after the other boys.

&&&&&

The Eagle's Nest was cold… but not in a way that could be measured by temperature, although simply being there sent chills down Cora's spine. There wasn't a soul left in the place, only a body with a single gunshot through the head. And it was the combination of emptiness and gray walls that made her uneasy.

While More flipped through the Fuehrer's photo albums, Speirs inspected the dead Kraut, Grant and Popeye made sure the rest of the place was clear, and Malarkey and Cora each opened up a bottle of champagne. They toasted to everything in the room, to each individual situation they found themselves in… overlooking Germany from a Nazi hideout, drinking Hitler's booze, being alive. The fact that any of them had made it that far was astonishing… after all, they hadn't been sure if they were going to make it out of the plane on D-Day.

Later, Cora, Nix, Harry, and Speirs gathered on the concrete balcony, getting dizzy and lightheaded from the elevation and the alcohol. They attempted to play the "Name the Nazis" game, but were all losing horribly. Somehow, Himmler and Goering kept getting slurred together into a name that sounded like, "Himorling," at least when it was Cora's turn. Dick and Lipton, both laughing, walked out to find the officers in their drunken stupors.

"Hey there, Adolf!" Harry called from his wooden lounge chair. "Love your Eagle's Nest. I hope you don't mind, we made ourselves at home. Love what you've done with the place." He took a manly swig of champagne before trying to hand it off to Dick. "Come on," he urged. "Just so we can say we saw you do it."

Dick, with an amused indifference to Harry's suggestion, simply turned his attention to the piece of paper in his hands. "Listen up. Cora, that means you too. From Corps, just came in. Effective immediately. 'All troops stand fast on present positions…'"

Dick scanned the group. Harry straightened himself up in mock attention, trying his best to look serious. Nixon leaned further back, hands behind his head, and Speirs mumbled in response. Cora, who had reclined daintily in the chair, giggled vivaciously.

"Dick, look how fast I'm standing!" she said, waving her arm in the air.

They all burst into a carefree laughter, the bubbles of the champagne transforming their mannerisms.

"Wanna hear it? Hmm? Alright, here it goes… German Army's surrendered."

Everyone went silent. The only noise Cora could hear was the rejoicing of a Hallelujah choir that was going off inside her head. It was over… the war in Europe was over. Suddenly, she could smell the hot asphalt of the city streets and could taste the first bite of a Coney Island hot dog in the sumertime. She could hear the taxis zooming up and down those busy Manhattan streets she loved to visit. And she could practically see her father, welcoming her home with open arms. _Home. We're going home._

Dick started for the exit, with Nix following close behind him, but stopped and turned back around quickly. He jogged toward Cora and stood next to her, where she sat in a daze. He leaned over her, placing his hands on both sides of the lounge chair to balance himself, and kissed her firmly on the lips. By the time she even registered what was happening, Dick had already ran off of the balcony and all was left was a cacophony of laughter and a flush of red on her cheeks.

"Goddamnit," Speirs mumbled. "Do you have any idea how much money I owe Nixon now?"

&&&&&

Cora had always heard that Austria was beautiful, but she had never quite believed it. Then, of course, the 101st got the chance to drive through countryside and she realized that she had never seen a sky that blue or trees that green in a long time. She had begged Dick to leave her in Germany, to let her live out the rest of her life in one of the plush beds that they had found upon further exploration of the Nazi hotel. The second their new temporary residence, a five-story lodge with unique crimson accents against bright white, came into view, though, she took back every good thing that she had said about the latter abode… it was trash compared their Austrian palace.

What made things even better for Cora was that the officers were now in charge of surrenders, meaning that the Krauts were forced to look her in the eye and give in. She usually found some sick pleasure in seeing them squirm, mostly because she knew she'd never forget how it felt to have a man take his last breath beneath her hands as he cried for his mother or how warm blood felt as it pulsed out of a bullet wound. She'd never forget the sight of her people: emaciated or dead, fenced in like wild animals, with their identities shorn away with their hair. She'd never forget the look on the faces of the women she saw in the Landsberg camp… daughters carrying their dying mothers, sisters mourning sisters, all sporting a string of numbers on their arms and glassy stares. Cora blamed the German military for so much of it. She didn't care that they were only following orders… as far as she was concerned, there was a line between what they had done and sadism; a line that had definitely been crossed.

"I'm so sorry about the wait, Colonel. Captain Larson is usually punctual," Dick fibbed, drumming his fingers against the desk. "I don't know what could be keeping her…"

"Her?" the Colonel interrupted in a thick German accent, still standing perfectly straight and rigid.

Cora rounded the corner jovially. Her skirt and jacket clung to her curves, revealing a feminine frame that would normally be hidden beneath the heavy uniform she was accustomed to wearing. Her lips and nails had been lacquered with matching shades of cherry red, or "Fascist red," as she liked to call it when she would get all dolled up for the German officers.

"I know I'm late. Sorry 'bout that. Major Winters, thanks for covering for me. You're fantastic. So, where are we?"

The nostrils of the Colonel's thin nose flared as Cora slid on top of the desk and began to swing her feet back and forth. "I believe you are supposed to instruct me on where to leave my men and my weapons, _Captain_."

Cora laughed. "Oh, that's right. Well then, have your boys collect all of your little weapons and deposit them at… where was it again? Oh, yeah, the school, the church and the airfield. If you could just do us that little favor, I'd appreciate it. Saves me the trouble of having to whine to my superior officer about sending our guys down there to enforce the rules. 'Cause you hate listening to me whine, don't you, Major?"

"I certainly do, Cora," Dick said, hoping that the smile he was suppressing didn't come out in his voice.

"Very well," the Colonel said. He reached into his holster and extended a gun out for Cora to take from him. She studied it carefully before returning her gaze to him. "Please accept this as my formal surrender, Captain. It is better than to lay it on the desk of a clerk."

Cora hopped off the desk and took the sidearm, feeling the strange sensation of cold shoot through her right hand.

"Why, thank you, Colonel. My children will cherish this souvenir just as much as I have cherished sharing this moment in time with you," she said, the fake gentility dripping from her tone like honey from a jar. "In fact, I think that I'll place it on the mantle when I get home. Right next to where I put the menorah during Hanukkah. Or maybe, I'll keep it in the china cabinet with the Seder plate… doesn't that just kill you?"

Cora saluted as Nixon and Harry ushered the Colonel out, just as a vein started to bulge in his neck. Dick watched as she grinned in triumph, her hands on her hips and her head held high in the air.

"You're feeling pretty proud of yourself right now, aren't you?" he said, leaning against the desk with his hands in his pockets.

She half-turned to him and smirked devilishly. "Good call."

&&&&&

The Pacific newsreel rolled on in the background as Cora sipped on a steaming cup of black coffee. It was almost difficult for her to watch as they showed the medics carrying the casualties away on stretchers. _Look who's going to have a lot of work to do… _The smoky room was packed with enlisted men and officers alike, all of whom were thinking the same thing. Whatever hopes they had of seeing home soon faded as soon as the lights flicked on.

It was true that some of them would have enough points to go home, the full 85, but others -- the ones whose only medals had been purple hearts -- were left behind, waiting for more news. Cora was one of them. Since her gunshot wound from Holland had never been reported, she wasn't eligible for the purple heart, and the things she had done as a surgeon was just part of her job description. And there definitely wasn't a medal for being a woman… technically, she should have been with the WAC like her sister.

What she had hoped, though, was that the lottery on the anniversary of D-Day would be her saving grace. Easy Company stood in their platoons, dressed in their class-A uniforms, with their M-1s either slung over their shoulders or at their sides. Cora stood next to Eugene and Talbert, the sun shining directly into her eyes. She listened carefully as Speirs began to call out the serial number of the lone, lucky solider that would be going back to the States, back to apple pie and baseball, liberty and freedom.

"Sergeant Darrell C. Powers," Speirs read from the tiny slip of paper he had retrieved from the helmet.

Easy Company cheered Shifty's name and a few patted him on the back. Cora grinned at him, although slightly sad that one of their best shots was leaving them to their own devices. She would miss him in Tokyo.

"General Taylor has also announced that the 101st Airborne Division will definitely be redeployed to the Pacific. So, beginning tomorrow, at 0600 hours, we will begin training to go to war."

_Training to go to war… _It was like Toccoa all over again.

&&&&&

Dick stared out at the lake, hearing (but not listening to) Harry and Nixon quip back and forth about points and Pennsylvania. He had made the decision about going to the Pacific, and now it was all he could think about. And, of course, how he was going to break the news to Cora. _You must remember this. _She'd try to get a transfer too, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but he couldn't let her. _A kiss is still a kiss. _He loved her too much.

"You didn't tell him?" Dick asked Nixon, upon hearing Harry's last statement.

"No," he said casually, "I couldn't get him to shut up."

"What? Tell me what?" Harry turned back and forth between Dick and Nixon, trying to get an answer out of either of them.

"Guts and Glory here applied for a transfer," Nixon said, exhaling smoke from his regal mouth.

"What?" Harry asked with bulging eyes.

Dick's gaze fell to his boots as he traced invisible circles on the wooden deck. "13th Airborne are heading out for the Pacific right away. If I'm going, I want to get it over with."

"Are you in on this too?" Harry asked, turning his head back to Nixon.

"I can't let him go by himself. He doesn't know where it is," he joked.

Harry gave a short laugh and then looked at Dick, who remained stoic and pensive, like always. "You're leaving the men?"

Dick squinted into the sunlight as his chest tightened. "They don't need me anymore," he said, bottling up a sigh. Admitting it was the first step.

Harry wracked his brain. "Okay, fair enough. But… wait. You're leaving Cora?"

Dick stopped breathing. It felt as though something cold had just been driven through him. _A sigh is just a sigh. _The blood whooshed in his ears and he felt almost queasy. The thought of not having her around killed him, made him question what he was doing. But Cora was… well, Cora. And he couldn't sit around and wait anymore while she decided what she wanted. _The fundamental things apply._

"She doesn't need me either." _As time goes by._

&&&&&

Cora knew Dick had a bit of a restless spirit. He always had to move, couldn't sit still. He had the whole "people to see, things to do" mentality down to an art. But he always decided to chase fate at the worst possible times.

She found out about his attempt to transfer through Colonel Sink, who had approached her in one of the hallways.

"Capt'n Larson, it's good to see you," he said, a hint of bourbon lingering on the air around him.

"You too, sir," she said, trying to think of dead puppies, famine… anything that wasn't funny.

"I'm surprised you're here right now. I figured you'd be in that meeting about that transfer."

Her brows furrowed together and her lips pursed. "What transfer, sir?"

"What do you mean, 'What transfer?'" Sink asked, conveying the same confused expression that Cora had. "The transfer that Major Winters and Capt'n Nixon applied for. I assumed that you'd be joining them. Hell, ya'll are practically the 'Three Musketeers.'"

Sink continued down the corridor toward his office, leaving Cora almost frozen, with the only movement being the sagging of her shoulders and the general wilting of her posture. _And when two lovers woo, they still say 'I love you.' _Her mouth hung open as she stared incredulously into the empty hall and she felt as if she had just been kicked in the stomach. _On that you can rely. _And she was sure that if someone could see inside of her mind, it would look strikingly similar to a scene from The Wizard of Oz… before the Technicolor set in. _No matter what the future brings, as time goes by._

Cora chased down Nixon in a flustered frenzy, her eyes wild with confusion and grief. "Lewis Nixon, you've got some explaining to do!"

"About what, sugar plum?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

Cora ripped it from his mouth and threw it to the ground. She punched in him the arm as hard as she could, but it only sent him back a step or two. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth lips, a dark shade of red, formed a thin line.

"I had a nice little chat with Sink today. I got to listen to him ramble on about some transfer that I've never heard of before in my life. You want to let me in on this little secret of yours?"

Nixon raised his right eyebrow and smirked. "Tell me something, Cora. Was it Sink you were talking to or Bourbon Bob? Because if it was the latter, you might want to be wary of the information you got."

Cora rolled her eyes. "Okay, so he was a little liquored up, but I know from plenty of personal experience that when people drink, they get chatty and chatty people don't have the ability to think before they speak. The truth _always_ comes out. Now, tell me what the fuck that transfer is about."

Nixon rubbed the back of his neck and bit down on his bottom lip. He knew Dick wanted to tell her himself, but he figured since neither of them were going anywhere, it didn't matter too much who the news came from.

"Alright, look. If Dick asks, you didn't find out from me, okay? Sink told you all the dirty details, got it?"

Cora nodded and Nixon exhaled before delving into the story. He told her everything: how Dick was tired of sitting around and waiting to go, how all the Major wanted was a sign from her that would change his mind; how, because of all of his previous accomplishments, Dick was told that his men deserved to keep him around, and how he was also told that he had been through enough hell by leading the Army's first woman. _Moonlight and love songs-- never out of date. _Cora's gaze drifted through the room, never staying on one thing for too long. _Hearts full of passion-- jealousy and hate. _The dusty tornado in her head started up again and before she could really think her actions through, she was running…

Dick stood, barefoot, on the dirt path leading to the dock. He put his hands on his hips and looked out across the blue waters before him. Part of him was glad that he wasn't going with the 13th Airborne… he would have missed the serenity of Austria.

As he stretched, he inhaled deeply. The aroma of pines and nature filled his nose and, out of nowhere, so did a hint of cinnamon mixed with the velvety opulence of gardenia. Dick turned to see Cora coming toward him, out of breath. She stopped in front of him and bent forward, placing both hands on her knees. Beads of sweat had formed on her brow and across her heaving chest. _Woman needs man, and man must have his mate. _He went toward her, arms partially open to receive her, but she backed away instead.

"Cora, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

She finally caught her breath and stood up straight, head tipped back indignantly. _That no one can deny. _"No, no. Nothing's wrong, if, of course, you consider major life events nothing!"

Dick sighed and clenched his jaw tight. "I'm going to kill Nix…"

"Why? You should have told me in the first place! Besides, he isn't the person who told me about it. Sink did, okay? Nixon just gave me the details."

"Cora… I'm sor--"

"No, Dick," she said, cutting him off. "You listen to me. I'm so sick of this! First, you leave to take care of the Battalion, leaving us with Moose and Dike. Then, you became a Major, making things even more difficult. And now, you're trying to go jump on Japan without us, without me! It's unforgivable!" _It's still the same old story._

"And I realize that you're not going, Nixon told me that too," she said as the tears started tumbling down her cheeks. _A fight for love and glory. _"But I just don't understand why you're always leaving. It feels like I have you for one minute, and the next, you're gone. And I hate it, Dick. I hate it because you're the one person in my life that I don't think I could live without."

Her tears fell more and more as Dick stood there, the words all running through his brain. He couldn't process it, couldn't understand what was happening. _A case of do or die. _Instead, he remained immobile and watched her with an unsure expression. War he could handle, but women made him a nervous wreck. He could feel a tightening in his chest that almost had him falling to his knees and practically crying right along with her.

A pair of dark blue eyes peered up at him, begging and pleading silently. "Why are you always trying to leave me? I just… I…"

"You what, Cora?" he asked, the wrinkle above his nose becoming deeper as she stalled.

There were things Cora didn't admit to a man first. There were certain rules she had about words she could and could not say before he did. But Dick was different. He wasn't going to fit into any of the molds she had dealt with before, which is probably why she was drawn to him in the first place. Cora had experience with many men, but not a single one even came close to being like Dick Winters. Admitting it was the first step…

"Dick, I… I love you."

He was silent for a moment, as only he could be, but then, with a gentle tenderness, closed the space between them and cradled her wet face in his hands.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that for three years," he whispered before slowly bending to meet her.

His mouth was pressed softly against hers when his eyes had slipped shut, and for once, Cora let him take the reins. She let out a small whimper as Dick eventually deepened the kiss and his began hands moved southward, from her slender neck to her waist, drawing her closer to him. Cora learned thoroughly that, even through all that he had seen and done, he still tasted of purity and virtue, of Bibles and fertile earth. She drank it in like wine. The man that surrounded her, invading every thought and feeling she had, was better than anything or anyone she had ever done in her whole life.

Suddenly, the kisses became less soft and more frantically hungry as each second passed. Dick groaned against Cora's mouth, a sound he simply could not help, as her hands slipped beneath his white shirt and ran over the pale skin of his chest. He worked his way down her jaw line and unto the soft skin of her throat._ The world will always welcome lovers._

"I'm not going anywhere," he said as his teeth grazed her earlobe. "Never again."

_As time goes by._

* * *

Reviews make me swoon.


	19. Cowboy Take Me Away

**A/N: **Everyone, this is the last "real" chapter. Following this will be an epilogue, which will finish this thing out at an even 20. Thank you to all that have read, reviewed, and encouraged this little endeavor of mine. I am eternally grateful. At the end of the page is a link to a play list that has 90% of the songs used (the others can be found on iTunes).  
Thank you, again.  
Music by The Dixie Chicks. I do not own Band of Brothers.

* * *

**XIX. Cowboy Take Me Away**

_I want to sleep on the hard ground  
In the comfort of your arms  
On a pillow of bluebonnets  
And a blanket made of stars_

The trouble all began when Shifty left for the States. The truck he was in was hit head-on by some drunken corporal from some other regiment. He spent the months after the accident in a series of hospitals, even though he should have been spending them lazing about and enjoying his home and family.

Then Janovec got hit. The jeep he was in had to swerve to miss a unsecured barrel that had rolled off the back of a cargo truck and crashed right into the forest. He was dead by the time he was brought to Cora. According to Webster, he was only ten points away from being able to leave Austria. _Only ten… _Cora could remember the day she met Private Janovec, when he was a bright-eyed boy, fresh off the troop ship. He had jumped with them into Holland, survived Bastogne, but was killed in Austria… in peacetime.

She personally wrote the letter to his parents.

The last casualty that Easy Company endured was Sergeant Chuck Grant, who had been with Easy since its formation. Speirs had been the one to inform Cora of the incident, and had also been the one to wake her from a dream that involved a scantily clad Dick Winters and a bowl full of cherries. Needless to say, she was livid when he turned on all of the lamps in her room.

"Ron, you prick! This better be good," she grumbled, peeling back the blankets while he rummaged through the closet.

He tossed her uniform on the bed and rushed to the dresser to find a pair of socks, tearing through her things like a rabid animal. "Hurry up and get dressed, Cora."

"What the hell is going on out there?" she asked, shoving her leg through the pants.

"Grant was shot. Some medic up at regiment says he needs a brain surgeon."

Cora paled. "What can I do, then? I wouldn't know where to even begin, Ron. I'd kill him. I can't do it."

"I know you can't," Speirs said, facing the wall so she could change her clothes. "Doc Roe said that you might know of one, though."

Cora didn't bother buttoning her shirt up all the way, so the olive guinea tee beneath showed quite a bit under her fatigues. She shimmed into the jacket as she headed for the door with Speirs close behind her.

"I do know of one brain surgeon, but…"

He stopped her. "But what?"

Cora bit her bottom lip and sighed. "But, he's a German. I'm not sure if that matters to you or not, but I think he's our best bet. I've been working with him a lot at the hospital, taking care of some of the soldiers. He'd probably be willing to help us."

He nodded. "Well, then let's go pay a visit to this Kraut surgeon of yours."

&&&&&

Speirs had instructed both Cora and Eugene to stay in the jeep while he went to knock on the door. Cora, of course, protested, knowing that she would probably do more good in getting the doctor's help instead of Speirs and his gun. But he failed to listen… as usual.

He rapped harshly on the glass pane of the front door several times before the light illuminated the foyer on the other side. Dr. Johann Kahler pulled back the curtain, only to see the deadly end of a handgun pointing straight at him. He opened the door upon Speirs' demand and hesitantly looked at him.

"Get in the jeep," Speirs ordered, waving the gun around.

Johann eyed it once and then reached for his trench coat.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his accent almost too thick for Speirs to understand.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "To the hospital. Just get in the jeep."

Johann looked at the gun again, which was now positioned closer to his chest. "If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me. If you're not, put the gun away," he said in a loud voice, suspicious of Speirs' manic eyes.

"Jesus Christ, put it back in your pants, pal," Cora snapped, fed up with his behavior as well.

Speirs looked up at her with a somewhat disgusted expression.

Johann turned his attention to Cora, who was sharing space on the back of the jeep with Grant's legs. The two of them had only been working together for a little while, but he found that, for a Jew, she was a remarkable surgeon. She was quick, but accurate; meticulous, but didn't linger on things for too long. She often performed the removal of objects, the stitching of open wounds, and other trivial things, but the manner in which she did them was the astounding part.

"Captain Larson, what has happened here?" he asked.

"From what they've told me, he was shot in the head. Obviously, not on my list of expertise. I figured that you'd have a better chance at saving him than I ever would."

"How long ago?"

Eugene, who had a tight grip on the jar and IV that was giving Grant blood, spoke up. "Half hour ago."

Johann nodded understandingly. "Let me drive," he said to a still very much armed Speirs. "We'll get there faster."

He stared at the doctor menacingly, until Cora called him. "You've got two choices, Ron. Either do as he says or swap penis sizes. I really don't care. It's your call."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but reluctantly acquiesced and jumped into the passenger seat.

"He better fucking live, Cora," he mumbled into the wind.

&&&&&

Speirs had run too far ahead of her, and Cora was already sprinting up the stairs and down the hallways to where Easy Company was keeping the drunken renegade. She burst through the double doors, where Talbert and Luz stood, listening to the soft sputtering coming from the adjoining room.

"Where is he?" she asked, out of breath.

"Who? That drunk bastard?"

"No," she said. "Speirs."

Talbert pointed to the room, where Speirs stood, the muzzle of his gun only inches away from the face of the replacement from I Company. There was blood all over the other man's face and plenty of swollen bruises that Cora knew would take a long time to heal. Clearly, the boys that had packed into the tiny room had let him know that they meant business. He coughed and gagged on his own blood, his head barely staying up on his own, like a weak infant. The gun quivered in Speirs' hand as his entire arm trembled. He couldn't quite steady himself.

Cora rushed up behind him and placed a hand gently on his forearm, forcing him to lower the weapon. He looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him before. It was something like sadness, but it was mixed with another emotion that was much, much darker. She almost feared it.

"Enough blood has been spilt because of him, Ron. Don't add to it," Cora said, barely above a whisper. "Let it go."

Speirs looked down at the back of his hand where it had collided with the side of the man's face. He dragged it down the soldier's shirtfront and quickly turned on his heels.

"Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit," he said quietly as he walked away.

The men of Easy Company watched as he headed out of the doors and turned the corner, then turned to Cora. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying not to cry or show any emotion that would have freaked any of them out any more.

"Grant's dead?" Talbert finally asked.

Cora gave a small smile to the group and patted a few of them on the shoulder. "Nope. Dr. Kahler said he's going to make it. Pretty lucky, huh?"

But Cora knew, luck had nothing to do with any of it. Fate had played so much of a role in her life during the war that she swore by it. Fate had brought the lot of them together, and Fate was what had kept the rest of them alive.

&&&&&

Dick stood at the edge of the lake, in the same spot where Cora had said those three magical words to him. He sighed contently at the thought of it. Then he remembered the small velvet box that was hidden in the middle drawer of his desk in his room, the one he had found with the bracelet he had already given her. But he had kept the small box a secret (Nixon didn't even have a clue that it existed), because within it, was a diamond ring… the deal closer, the ultimate proof of his desire to spend the rest of his life with her, the sign that he was ready for whatever curveball she was destined to throw at him. His only hope was that that sign had "Please, be gentle with me" undertones.

"I heard reports about a red-headed Eskimo," said a deep voice, ripping Dick from his thoughts. "Thought I'd check it out."

Dick looked at his watch. "Come to join me for a morning swim?"

"Yeah," Nixon said with a laugh. "You know me so well."

He handed Dick a package, wrapped in brown paper, from Zielinski.

"Oh, great!" he said, taking a seat next to Nixon on the slate sidewalk that lined the slope of the lake. "I ran into the regimental photographer. Said he had all these photographs of the 506th going all the way back to Toccoa. I traded 'em for a couple of lugers."

"That's a bargain," Nixon scoffed.

Dick opened the expandable folder and pulled out a glossy print of himself and Nixon in their class-A uniforms, back when they were just lieutenants. The two of them laughed at the bewildered, but still relatively cocky expressions they had, both silently remembering the pre-Europe days. Dick shuffled through a few more of them before one in particular caught his eye.

He saw a girl, fresh-faced and only 23-years-old, with a 1000-watt smile and dark lips. Her soft curls twisted wildly around her, falling past her shoulders and escaping from the band that she had attempted to hold them back with. Her petite frame and its perfect hourglass shape was clad in the airborne's PT gear and her smooth, milky white legs were anchored down by a pair of jump boots, that had been laced up tighter than anyone else's. Her freckled arms were stretched out above her head in a "Ta-da!" sort of pose as she floated off of the ground, supported by four pairs of hands that belonged to four faces; all of which were grinning stupidly at the camera. Dick recognized those faces, those goofy smiles, as Bill Guarnere, Joe Toye, Don Malarkey, and George Luz. And, of course, Cora, who looked like a girl in a magazine.

_Dick? _For the longest time, he couldn't remember exactly when he fell in love with Cora Larson. _Dick? _But looking at that photograph reminded him. _Dick? _The first time he saw her, he was hooked.

"Dick? You in there?" Nixon said, waving a hand in front of his friend's face.

"What?" he asked, though his mind was still back in 1942.

"I asked you what you were doing after this."

"Oh," Dick said, trying to shake his head free. "I don't know. Probably get some breakfast."

Nixon rolled his eyes, both at Dick's response and at his disappearance into Cora-land. For three years, he had watched the two of them. Hell, so did everyone else in the company. Most men didn't admit to the whole concept of soul mates, but the Captain and the Major made it hard to deny. _Freaks…_

"No, I meant 'after, after.'"

Dick fidgeted. "Well, it's funny you should mention it, because I had a meeting with Colonel Sink. You know, discussed the possibility of staying."

"In the Army?" Nixon asked, the skepticism heavy in his tone.

"Yeah," Dick said with a shrug. "Yeah, as a career. I said I'd think about it."

There was a long pause. The two of them stared at their feet for a while, until Nixon finally spoke.

"What'd you think about New Jersey?"

"New Jersey?" Dick asked, befuddled by the question.

Nixon picked up a leaf and began twirling it between his fingers. "There's a company in Nixon, New Jersey. It's called 'Nixon Nitration Works.'"

"Oh, sounds picturesque," Dick quipped.

"Yeah," Nixon chuckled. "Oddly enough, I know the owners. Probably gonna expect me to make something of myself. I thought maybe I'd drag you along with me."

Another pause occurred as Dick processed everything. A smirk appeared and Dick squinted into Nix's direction. "Are you offering me a job?"

Nixon gave him a look and casually shrugged. "We'll see how you do in your interview, but, you know, a man of your qualifications, I think we can probably scrape something up, maybe even commensurate with your current salary level."

Dick simply nodded. "Yeah, I'll think about it. I really appreciate it, Nix."

"Yeah, well, just think about," he said, before getting up and leaving Dick and the serenity of the lake.

"Goodnight, Lew," Dick called over his shoulder, getting only a wave in response.

He laughed before heading toward the dock, the job offers and thoughts of marriage rolling around in his head. And the war wasn't even officially over yet…

&&&&&

The airfield was covered with straight rows of men in German uniforms, waiting for their general to officially surrender to Lt. Carwood Lipton. The warm, summer sun cast a glow over their war-torn bodies and defeated faces, somehow making everything seem less solemn. Cora watched from the backseat of a jeep, her head resting upon Dick's shoulder. She inhaled the scent of the soap he had used that morning to shave and slipped her hand into the pocket of his jacket, the masculine aroma of the leather carrying her to a place she had only been to in her dreams.

"Don't get too comfortable, Cora," Nixon whispered, squinting into the sunlight.

"Why? What are they going to do, Nix? Send me back home? Oh, no! Not that," she said sarcastically, making Dick laugh in response.

Cora was still laughing a little as a truck drove off, rumbling off across the field. When she looked up, she was met with a pair of dark eyes that still seemed to find her, no matter what.

Sobel stared straight at her with an expression that usually had her wanting to rip her own heart out, just to stop it from hurting. She braced herself for the pain, for the internal bleeding to commence, but nothing happened. She wasn't numb, she wasn't hurt… she felt as though she were looking at any other man in the world, and as the muscles in Dick's abdomen tightened beneath her hand, she understood why.

The man that Sobel was with saluted the three officers in the jeep and continued to walk, following the proper protocol. Sobel, on the other hand, turned to face the opposite direction, as if ignoring the members of his former company was going to make them disappear.

"Captain Sobel," Dick called out.

Sobel quickly nodded in his direction. "Major Winters," he said, merely acknowledging the fact that he was there.

"Captain Sobel," Dick said again, forcing Sobel to stop. "We salute the rank, not the man."

As he began to turn, Cora debated whether or not to lean back from Dick's shoulder. She knew it would kill him to see her that way, and part of that thrilled her, but that letter he had written only months ago still ran through her mind. But Sobel moved faster than she had expected him to and, as he saluted Dick, he got the full view of just how much things had changed since they had last seen each other. Cora was no longer a slave to her feelings for him. She had found something real.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Cora turned toward Nixon. "Ha! You owe me twenty dollars and a bottle of wine. I told you I was more of a bad influence on him."

"Oh, shut up, Cora. Just because that move he just pulled reeks of you doesn't mean anything!"

Cora laughed and leaned forward to kiss Dick's freckled cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain behind. She slid out of the jeep and gave his hand a squeeze, but his grip on her tightened as she tried to leave. Her eyes softened as she reached out to stroke the side of his face, feeling him lean into her palm.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

He looked at her with clear blue eyes, a color she hadn't seen anywhere else in the world, and nodded. "With my life."

"Good. Hold on to that feeling," she said with a smile before slipping from his hands.

Cora began to run in order to catch up with Sobel, to talk to him one last time. She called his name as she got closer, again and again, until finally, she shouted the one name he couldn't ignore.

"Herbert!"

Sobel stopped mid-stride and told the orderly he was with to go ahead, that he'd be along in a minute. He turned around and walked toward her with the same swagger that she remembered from years ago. It was awkward and unsure, but still undeniably arrogant.

"Cora Leigh," he said, his gaze falling to meet hers. "What happened to your face?"

"Bastogne happened to it," she said, more as a matter of fact than anything else.

"I always thought that he had a thing for you. You told me I was crazy."

"You are crazy," she teased.

"Did you ever get my letter?"

"Yes."

"Cora…" He paused. "Everything I said in there was true. Everything."

"I know, Herb. Really, I do, but it's different this time. I finally realized that not all my needs come wrapped in bed sheets."

Sobel bit his lip as tears welled up in his doe eyes. "Just… please, tell me you don't hate me, Cora. I couldn't live with myself if you did."

"No, I don't hate you. I mean, I've tried to, but, for some reason, I can't. But, you have to know, I'm not in love with you either. I loved you the best way I knew how back then, but I've changed and so have you. It's different now…" Her voice trailed off as Sobel started to nod.

He extended his hand to her in a friendly gesture and shook hers firmly, like businessmen… like refined human beings. But then he enclosed her hand with both of his own, without letting her out of the handshake. Sobel pulled her to him, only inches away, causing Cora to stand defiantly straight.

"Be happy, Cora Leigh," he whispered in a dulcet tone.

She relaxed and let her shoulders fall, smiling a little. "You too, Herb."

Sobel let go of her and shoved his hands deep within his jacket pockets. He stepped away and shook his head. "No, Cora. Not without you."

And, with that, he was gone. Cora never saw Herbert Sobel again, until she went to his funeral in the 1980s. Even though he had had two sons and an ex-wife, all of whom had heard of his death (and his failed suicide attempt), she was the only one in attendance. _"Part of you will live in me." _Cora sighed heavily before heading back toward the jeep and the comfort of Dick's arms.

&&&&&

"I see you've been waiting for me," Dick called from the shallow water.

Cora sat up and pushed the sunglasses she stole from Nixon on top of her head. She gazed at him, admiring the shade of red his hair was and the strong build of his torso, and smirked. "I swear, your whole gender is so conceited! It's disgusting."

She swung her legs over the side of the dock, enjoying the feeling of the open air on her bare legs. Cora hadn't realized how much she had missed her PT shorts and white PT shirts. They were freeing, a reminder of simpler times and of the days when there were no memories of concentration camps or seeing her friends missing their limbs. Those were the days when the hardest thing she had to do was run three miles up and three miles down. _The good ole days… _

"Cora?"

"Yes, Dick."

"What do you think of New Jersey?"

Cora's legs stopped moving as she pondered the answer to the question. Truthfully, she didn't think much about New Jersey, except that it was the state just below New York. Her father took her hunting there. A lot of the Italians that she had slept with had summer homes there. And, of course, that's where Nixon Nitration Works was located.

"It's not bad. Why? You taking a job with the New Jersey Board of Tourism or something?"

"No, but I was offered a job in a town called Nixon, New Jersey," he said with a vague smile.

Cora laughed. "Oh, well, doesn't that sound picturesque?"

Dick laughed along with her, slightly nervous. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Think you'll take it?" she asked. She wasn't fully following what he was trying to tell her. Naturally, she had a few guesses, but Cora was never quite sure with Dick. After all, he didn't fit any of her molds.

"The job? Yeah, probably. Except, there's that whole New York issue…"

"What New York issue?"

"Well, I'd have a take a train to see you and that's going to add up to quite a lot of money after a while. So, I was thinking that maybe the two of us could get a house somewhere close by, maybe in between so--"

Cora held up her hand to silence him. "Are you insane? Dick, I can barely keep my hands off you now. How the hell do you expect to keep your precious virtue intact?"

Dick looked up at her through squinted eyes as the sun beamed down upon them. Her scars glistened in the light, sparkling like streams of silver cutting through a countryside of ivory skin. She was like Isis, Aphrodite… Artemis.

"I don't know. I guess you'll just have to make an honest man out of me, Cora Larson."

Cora flashed a big smile, hardly able to contain herself, but she inhaled deeply and stood, placing her hands on her hips. She walked to the edge of the dock, looked at him once, and then dove into the lake toward him, splashing water in every direction.

"Can I take that as a yes?" he asked, embracing her.

Cora smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead and pressed her cold lips to his, clinging to him like a life preserver. "Of course you can take that as a yes! Why would I, of all people, pass up the golden opportunity to deflower you? Don't you know me at all?"

Dick let out a breathy laugh, then fully captured Cora's mouth with his own. He could taste the sugar from that morning's cup of coffee, but nothing else. The bitterness he always expected was never there… just sugar and the perfume of cinnamon.

"I've always known you, Cora. Always."

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Please feed the review addiction.


	20. Such Great Heights

**A/N: **So, who else was waiting for this song to come up? I know I was.  
By the way, for anyone interested, I do plan on starting another story within this fandom. Whether it's focused on Nixon, Speirs, or Compton is still up in the air, though. (Suggestions, anyone?)  
I do not own Band of Brothers and have never meant any disrespect.  
Music by The Postal Service.

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**XX. Such Great Heights**

_And I have to speculate  
That God himself did make  
Us into corresponding shapes  
Like puzzle pieces from the clay_

New York, New York  
September 28, 1946

Dick swung his legs over the side of the bed and scanned the room for his clothes. The afternoon sun cut through the thin opening in the curtains and left a streak of light in the middle of the bed. A grin grew across his face and he bit down on his bottom lip to contain it.

"So… how exactly… is this how I'm… I don't kn—" he stammered, playing with the hem of the sheet.

Cora sat up and leaned toward him. She draped her arms around him and pressed her body to his back, placing soft kisses on his neck.

"You were absolutely perfect," she whispered.

Her curls spilt forward as her mouth worked its way down his neck to his shoulders, tasting and nipping at the freckled flesh. Dick tilted his head back and whispered his wife's name before turning fully toward her.

"Was I really?"

Cora shook her head and laughed. "Oh, honey, I never lie about sex."

He pressed his lips to hers, both of them laughing. The newlyweds fell back onto the mattress, their limbs intertwining. Cora rested her head upon Dick's chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart as it thudded in time with hers.

"We should probably head to the reception, right?" he said, thinking of all the guests. "Unless…"

Cora lifted her head up and stared into Dick's eyes, bewitched and bewildered. "Why, Richard Winters, are you suggesting something inappropriate?" she teased.

"And you thought you knew me so well."

&&&&&

Every living member of Easy Company had attended the wedding of the Captain and the Major that autumn. It was the first time both the bride and groom were in uniform. They made a home for themselves in the mountains of northwestern New Jersey, the place in between their two working worlds. Dick had taken the job at Nixon Nitration Works and Cora, who had proved herself worthy in the war, occupied a position as head surgeon in a Manhattan hospital.

When the United States went back to war, the Army called upon the Winters' expertise. Dick trained the rangers and soldiers, while a pregnant Cora instructed the combat medics.

"They want me to fight with them," he told her as they lied in bed one night.

Cora's face fell and she instinctively placed a hand on her swollen stomach. "Are you going?"

Dick rolled on his side, propped up on his elbow, and leaned in to kiss her forehead.

"No. I've seen enough of war."

"Good," she said with a grin. "Besides, if you think you're leaving me to take care of this thing on my own, then you're fucking nuts."

He laughed, kissing her belly. "'I'd miss you if you left' works too, you know."

&&&&&

Nothing changed as they grew older.

At the reunions, Cora was still the life of the party. She danced with her boys, stole their cigarettes, drank their beer. Her skin wrinkled and her dark hair lightened, but her scars never lost their silver tint and her lips never stopped forming those incandescent grins. And Dick was still the wallflower, watching her from afar as she captivated the room and won over the other wives. But she loved him, and there were times when he knew she questioned why. Their overwhelming differences still astounded people, just as much as their teamwork did. Dick and Cora fit together, like the ingredients of an apple pie… wholesome, with the perfect storm of sugar and spice.

They even had the occasional conversation through the bedroom window.

"Cora, this is ridiculous. Just come to bed."

"Dick, please! Let me relive our youth. Come on, tell me that I'm going to get you in trouble one of these days so I can say something sarcastic."

"Sure, because you need an excuse. And before you say that old age has made me bitter…"

"My God, you _do_ know me."

&&&&&

In 2001, the two boarded a plane headed for Europe and the premier of a mini-series that had been based off of their time in the war. She had remembered the numerous occasions that she had been interviewed by Mr. Ambrose and all of the intimate details she had shared about her relationship with both Dick and Sobel. She wondered just how far they were planning on going… it was HBO, after all.

"It feels strange to just sit down the whole time, doesn't it?" she said to Dick with a smile and a light squeeze, trying to keep her mind off of the sexcapades of her early life.

"I'll have to keep you away from the doorway and any green lights. You might get ideas," he teased, also thinking about how the two of them would be portrayed on screen. _Nixon always said that everyone else could see it._

"Now, Dick, you know you'd have to jump with me. What fun would it be without you?"

**Fin.**

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As usual, reviews make me swoon.


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